Amor Fictus
by Exileian
Summary: In an AU highschool setting, Ran finds himself drawn to Ken, a sophmore. Unfortunately, Ken already has a lover. But then Ran starts finding out some nasty secrets about this relationship... (Completed)
1. Precalc and Conversations

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. Weiss. Schwarz. High school. (I'd be ashamed of that last one.) 

            "Damnit!" 

           Five books tumbled from Ran's arms and crashed into the floor, followed by a folder stuffed to the brim with papers. In a near-silent explosion, everything spread across the off-white linoleum and scattered wildly. 

            The redhead sighed and stared as the last of his pencils clattered from his fingers. A small group of students had stopped to watch, and one or two were shuffling his papers into a pile. The rest merely walked around or through the mess, kicking papers and erasers down the hall. 

            He reached out and stuffed the papers he could reach into the folder. It was frayed and nearly split down the middle, yet somehow held up against the barrage of papers he shoved into it every day. Most of the papers were ages old. So why did he keep them? 

            Ah, the mysteries of life… 

            Ran stacked his books back into a pile, shoved his folder between them, and hefted the heavy stack into the air. He heard a chorus of snickers around him as he staggered for a moment; one icy glare sent the offenders scattering.  

            A groan escaped his mouth as he saw how much further away his arch nemesis was. Twenty, no, thirty feet? Just keep walking…maybe it'll be a little less difficult today. 

            Being that Ran's arch nemesis was his locker, he seriously doubted that. 

            The gray metal door greeted him with the usual innocent appearance of the same locker as any around it, but Ran knew it was merely a trick. He shifted the stack of books and papers into his left arm and grabbed hold of the combination spinner. 

            Left….left….30. 

            Right….20. 

            Left…12. 

            He grabbed the handle and jerked upwards, praying constantly that the locker would open for once. 

            The evil force merely laughed at him, the creaking of metal on metal. 

            Ran swore viciously, scaring the kids around him, and slammed a fist into his locker. 

            "Stupid, worthless hunk of metal…," he growled, reaching for the combination spinner again. 

            Left……..left……30. 

            Righhttt….riiiiight…..20. 

            Lefffffftttt….12. 

            Slowly, gently this time, Ran gripped the handle and lifted. 

            His locker complied with the sudden kindness and opened. 

           He sighed with relief, brushing a lock of deep red hair out of his face. So kindness _does prevail in times of great need. He shoved all five of the books into his surprisingly clean locker; he'd cleaned it yesterday. Before yesterday, it had been a mass of year old papers, unused pencils, eraser shards, and a few broken calculators. _

            The only things he hadn't removed were a few pictures. One was that of a little blue haired girl and a little redheaded boy: memories of days long gone. Another was that of a happy family, and a third was a sloppily drawn picture on lined paper. It had the qualities of a young child's drawing. But Ran treasured it; he kept it taped to the side of his locker. 

            The five books made their way into his locker, along with the viciously stuffed folder. Shortly one of the five books, labeled 'Pre-Calculus', was removed, and with it came a notebook and a pencil. Softly he shut his locker and turned away. 

            As soon as he entered the classroom, he glared. He remembered why he hated this class; they had just been on vacation for two weeks, so his memory was slightly fuzzy. After all, who thought about pre-calc when they were on vacation? 

            Sitting behind the teacher's desk had to be his most hated – and every student in the school's most hated – teacher. With his constantly iron will and icy glare, no student dared challenge him in anything, no matter how 'off' it seemed. His work was difficult and he was never gone a day from school. 

            Ran sat down and glared at the papers which hid his teacher's face. Shortly after, the bell rang, and the papers snapped together before landing on the table. 

            "Good morning," said Ran's teacher without any emotion. "For those of you who are – "

            The door opened suddenly, and two girls and a boy stumbled in. They cast nervous looks at the teacher, who merely glared in response, before running for their seats. 

            "…As I was saying, for those of you who are new here, my name is Mr. Crawford." He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "For those of you who are not new, and are entering this class for the second quarter of school, I believe you will remember me." 

            _Not fondly, Ran thought. Most of the students had this very same thought, but no one voiced it. While it would usually receive a chorus of giggles, in this class it certainly would not, and the student who said it would get hauled down to the office within seconds. _

            "I will take attendance now. Say 'here' when I call your name. Azuki, Hitomi." 

            "Here." Ran noticed this first name was one of the three students who had come in late. 

            "You will be staying after for being late." Ran grimaced. As usual, Crawford refused to be lenient even on the first day of a new quarter. The girl slumped in her seat. 

            As names were called, Ran's attention strayed. He began to sketch on his opened notebook with a freshly sharpened pencil. He would have missed his name altogether had it not been so familiar to him. 

            "Fujimiya, Ran." 

            "Here." 

            There was a tense silence as Ran and Crawford's eyes met. They had never been on good terms, and at the end of last quarter, Ran had done something that enraged Crawford. However, it wasn't something he could report the student for; therefore, they had simply parted on terrifying terms. 

            "…" Crawford went on,  his gaze back on the paper. The tension lessened, and Ran shut his eyes. He was already getting a headache, and the school day had hardly even started…   
            "Tsukiyono, Omi." 

            "Here!" 

            Ran's eyes opened slightly. Nobody was that perky about pre-calc. Ever. This voice sounded…happy. Excited. Even…god, was this kid looking forward to what was coming? 

            The far-too-cheerful offender was sitting in one corner of the classroom, a smile on his face. He had bright blue, nearly cerulean eyes, and wheat brown hair. It was sort of blonde in the sunny light that poured in through the windows. He had a red sweater on. Ran didn't know why he noticed that; he just did. 

            The boy's smile quickly crumbled under the dark look he received from the teacher. 

            One slender eyebrow lifted as Ran looked the boy over. Wasn't he too young to be in pre-calc? He certainly looked it. Eh, who cared? He himself looked like he belonged out of school already. 

            The attendance finished. Crawford set down the list and reached for the dreaded math book. 

            "Today we will start on chapter 4. Take out your books and turn to page 257." 

            Ran obediently reached for his book and opened it. 

~~~ 

            Eighty minutes later, Ran heard the bell signaling the end of class. Crawford, as usual, had just finished off the lesson and the students were all writing down their homework. Instantly the sound of shuffling papers and scraping chairs filled the room. 

            Ran didn't leap up and shovel all his papers in a folder. He took his time, finishing writing down his assignment before calmly closing his agenda and looking around. Everybody was filing out of the room. This included the three students Crawford had instructed to stay after. 

            Crawford had an irritated look on his face when Ran glanced at the man. A tiny smile crept onto the silent redhead's lips as he stood up and put all his work together in a pile. He began to leave, but in order to do so, he had to walk in front of Crawford's desk. 

            Calmly, casually, he stalked by his teacher's desk. He could feel the hazel glare piercing his head, but he paid no attention. He could feel it as his back was turned to his teacher. 

            "Ran." 

            Ran's footsteps stopped. 

            "…" 

            "Do you still consider your answer correct?" 

            "You know it was correct." 

            "Yes…and I hate being wrong." 

            "…" 

            Ran knew exactly what Crawford was referring to. And he didn't care.  

            "Hurry and get to lunch." 

            "I thought you wanted to talk." 

            "I merely wondered if you thought you were right." 

            "I said I was. And I am." Ran took one more step. 

            "Arrogance is a foolish trait, you know." 

            "I'm not being arrogant." 

            With that, Ran left the room, the feeling of his teacher's gaze lingering on his skin. 


	2. Lunch and Contemplations

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. Like your reviews. (11 reviews for the first chapter…that's a record for me.) 

            Ran stalked through the filled halls. He shoved past groups of girls and boys who were chattering gaily about their love lives, and they squealed in indignation when he shattered their tight-knit little groups. 

            Ran paid them no mind. His thoughts were strictly on Crawford, and how much he wanted to rip the man into tiny pieces. How could he still be mad over that one stupid little thing?! It was enough to drive one mad! 

            Abruptly the packed halls came to an end, and Ran found himself staring at a mass of students sitting at tables in a giant room. The smells of food drifted from one side of the room, cooked and deceivingly delicious. 

            Ah, lunch…a nightmare disguised as a dream. While most kids envisioned high school lunches as tasty, well-cooked food served by pleasant ladies and the lunchroom as a huge room full of happy, smiling kids who conversed with their friends without a care in the world, the reality was somewhat……different. 

            Sure, the room was clean enough; the janitors did their jobs well, probably because they were being paid extra to work here. And at first glance, everyone did seem to be happy, and the food looked delicious. So you wandered in and stepped in line for the food, searching out your friends in the tables, unable to wait for a chance to talk to them without being reprimanded. 

            Ran knew better. After all, he had no friends. 

            He was Nobody. 

            There were others like him; they were scattered around the lunchroom, huddled in corners or on the edges of tables, hoping to be seen and accepted. This was when you saw the ugly side of the lunchroom. That people were actually rejected and forgotten, left to themselves to eat. 

            Ran didn't mind. He'd eaten alone before. 

            He slipped into the lunch line ahead of twenty students. They didn't notice, being far too submerged in their conversations about love and hate. The line moved slowly. Too slowly, Ran decided as he leaned against the wall and listened to some girls chatter about their new crushes. 

            "I swear, he is just sooooo cute!" 

            "We know that! We've seen him! Come on. You have to know something about him!" 

            "Other than that he's cute, duh!" 

            "I know, I know! I hear he plays on the soccer team." 

            "What position?!" 

            "Goalie!" 

            "Aww, that's not so cool." 

            "So?! He hangs out with the best of them! They all like him!" 

            "Really?! How do you know??" 

            "I went out with one of the forwards. He said so himself." 

            "Lucky!" 

            "Anyway, he's also really smart! And he's not afraid to ask for help in class! The teachers all think he's some kind of genius!" 

            "Wow, he sounds absolutely wonderful!" 

            "Yeah, and he's the most gorgeous guy on the planet." 

            Ran shut out their mindless chatter. They said the same things about every guy they saw who had a hint of attractiveness on his face. Still, this one sounded like he might be the real thing… 

            At last Ran could pass into the hot lunch area. The smells were still deceptively good, but then you caught sight of the food. If he hadn't been going to this school for some time, he might have retched. 

            It was the usual lunch of soy chicken deep fried in year old grease, lumpy mashed potatoes that looked drier than the chicken, rolls and freeze dried beans. He grabbed a white lunch tray with a sigh and let the food fill his plate. The lunch ladies weren't pleasant, but they weren't crabby, either. They didn't say anything to Ran or anybody else for that matter. 

            The lunches cost money; if they didn't, the school would have collapsed on lack of funds. Ran shuffled through his pocket until he had enough money in change to hand to the woman at the end of the line. She scowled at him when he dumped the old coins into her hand. Obviously, she wanted paper money. 

            Tough luck. 

            As Ran stepped into the lunchroom, he tensed. He felt every pair of eyes in there lift to regard him. Was he a friend? Or was he a loser? Did he belong in the front of the lunchroom, with the nerds, or was he a member of the back, with the jocks and weeders? Perhaps he was a boy who sat in the middle with the preps and the popular kids. 

            Ran was none of those. 

            He recovered from the momentary shock of being stared at – although the noise of the lunchroom never diminished – and started toward his usual seat near the exit of the lunchroom into the school courtyard. He hesitated only to grab a handful of plastic-wrapped utensils. 

            This bench was his bench. Nobody sat here but Fujimiya Ran. The last time someone had sat there, they had found themselves on the floor shortly after his arrival. Since then, nobody came near it. Ran sat down and pried open a pack of utensils, seizing the dreaded spork and poking his mashed potatoes with it. 

            Crawford. Why did that man come to mind when Ran was eating dry mashed potatoes? Maybe because the man was as useless as the food. Or maybe it was because the argument they'd had moments before Ran left the room was still fresh in his mind. 

            _"Do you still consider your answer correct?" _

_            "You know it was correct." _

_            "Yes…and I hate being wrong." _

            Ran glared at the off-white lump on his plate. Crawford knew he was wrong, yet he refused to admit it. He was more stubborn than any of the students. He scared the entire student body and a large amount of the teachers. 

            Yet Ran had done something amazing… 

            Suddenly, everyone exploded into cheering, clapping, and whistling. Ran's head jerked up and he staggered out of his inner monologue to look for whatever had caused this eruption. 

            The soccer team had just walked in the door. They were returning from a successful game, the end of a winning streak on their shoulders. Everyone howled with appreciation as they moseyed on down to the hot lunch line to get the lunch that only jocks received. 

            Ran glowered. He hated jocks. He could have easily been on any sports team he wanted, but nobody would accept him. He was physically fit and could run faster than any kid he knew, but he wasn't on any teams. 

            He simply…didn't want to be part of a team. 

            Girls screamed with appreciation as the forwards and the goalie came out of the lunch line. The forwards were all sweaty, grass covered, and highly attractive young men. Blonde, brunette, and black haired, with dazzling green or black eyes. Behind them was the goalie, and Ran saw why the girls had been talking about him and not the forwards. 

            He, too, was covered in grass, but most of it was stuck in his hair, and he brushed the green bits out of his chocolate brown locks with one hand. His eyes were brown, deep brown. So deep that Ran might have lost himself in them when their gazes seemed to meet. They didn't dazzle; they shone. And then he smiled… 

            Ran shook his head and looked back at his plate. He was Nobody. He didn't associate with the jocks, especially now that the season was over. Their victory had sealed the championship. Everyone was talking about the game; the room was buzzing with voices. 

            Ran drowned it all out. He dumped his untouched lunch into the garbage can and slumped back down on the bench. Nobody was rushing over to him to tell him about the game. Nobody said anything to him. He just picked it all up from the people at nearby tables. 

            The score had been 1-2. The ball had been headed right for the visitor – their – goal. It was flying, shooting, screaming for the net. Time stopped as it headed right for the goal that would tie the game… 

            Ah, what else could have happened? It was blocked. The goalie, the master soccer player, had blocked it. Who was that kid, anyway? Ran listened to find a name. 

            "…and Ken blocked it!" 

            So that was it. Ken. 

            Ran sighed and waited for the bell to ring. It would be a long lunch hour unless he had something to do. 

            Something to do…? 

            He pulled out his pre-calc notebook and opened it to the first page, where he had started drawing something. A light sketch, just a few lines. He began drawing more to it, adding on and on until he could definitely see a little girl in it. She had two braids, and a pretty smile. Her eyes were closed because she was laughing. She had a thin, delicate neck, and – 

            Ran stopped. 

            This girl…so familiar. So eerily familiar. 

            _So you're creeping into my mind so much that you're influencing my hands… _

_            His head leaned back, and he shut his eyes, willing away the tears that were threatening to pour down his cheeks. _


	3. Phy Ed and Memories Awakened

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. (30 reviews for two chapters…now THAT is a record for me.) 

            Physical education. Ran _hated physical education. With a passion. _

            It wasn't that he was bad at it; in fact, he was one of the better students. The problem was the staff and the clientele. 

            Worse yet, they combined grades for PE. So here was Ran, a junior, in a class with a couple other juniors, five seniors, and fourteen sophomores. No freshmen. They got their own PE classes. 

            "Alright, line up! Today we're running." 

            A collective groan was heard from the class as they lined up to go outside. It was cold, wet, and looked like it might rain. Perfect track weather. 

            Ran remained silent, glaring out over the damp fields. They were still green, but massive patches of brown were spreading like mold on a piece of bread. Soon it would be winter, and then the grounds would be covered in snow. 

            For now, though, they still had to run. 

            "All right, everybody line up!" the teacher yelled. "Girls over here, boys over here! Two lines, even numbers!" 

            There was a mass scramble as everyone tried to find a spot next to their best friend so that they could race and find out who was faster and get more popularity and be congratulated and then make up with their friend because they really weren't trying to prove anything and it was just dumb luck and go on living happily ever after. 

            Ran gave a snort and just stood in line. 

            "Ready? Race 100 yards to the end! You will be told your time. Remember it!" Everyone nodded, hoping that the teacher would just hurry up and get on with it. "All right….GO!" 

            Two girls and two boys shot off, running as fast as they could. The boys were running like they'd never run before, and the girls were squealing as they got mud across their new shoes. Cheers from the waiting groups emerged as the first racer crossed the line, receiving his time and laughing at his friend. 

            Ran continued to stay motionless. 

            Again and again pairs went off, flying like not-too quick bullets. Ran watched impassively, never caring who won and who lost. The finished racers stayed down at the far end. Thus, by the time Ran's turn had come, there was no one left to race. 

            He saw the other kids pointing and staring, whispering among each other. They were talking about him. He had no one to race. So what was going to happen? The teacher frowned at them, then looked at Ran. 

            "I thought the class had an even number of students…Ikari! Ikari!" 

            A black haired young man down at the other end perked up. He had been describing how he'd run so fast to a group of starry-eyed girls. 

            "Get down here! You're racing Fujimiya!" 

            The teacher always referred to students by their last names. 

            The boy trotted down and gave Ran a contemptuous sneer. Ran didn't even look at him. 

            "All right. Ready?" 

            Both boys took their positions. 

            "Ready…aaand….GO!" 

            Ran watched as the black haired boy raced off. He looked behind him and saw Ran several yards behind him and laughed. 

            Ran knew that if he lost this, he'd be mocked and ridiculed. But didn't that happen every day? Still, it would be nice to go at least one day without being called something crude… 

            So Ran let his mind drift back to his memories. 

            _"Damn you! I'll kill you!" _

_            "Get back here! You can't run forever. You can't hide at all!" _

_            Ran's footsteps started speeding up. _

            _"I'll find you, and you'll pay." _

_            "You'll scream like you've never screamed before!" _

_            Ikari didn't hear Ran approaching him. _

            _"I don't care if the cops come. I'll get my revenge." _

_            "There you are!!" _

_            The boy got a nasty shock when Ran passed him. _

            _"Go on! Run! Run, you little bastard! You can't get away from me!" _

_            "I'll catch you. I'll run you down and make you pay!" _

_            Everyone stared in utter silence as Ran, the icy loner who'd come out of nowhere, passed the star runner of the track team thirty yards from the goal and was still speeding up. _

            _"YOU CAN'T ESCAPE ME!!!" _

_            Ran blasted through the finish line with a wake of mud flowing behind him. The girl who was holding his stopwatch stared incredulously at the time. The teacher came down and looked at it. He was unable to find words. _

            The other students watched as Ran kept on moving, but was now slowing down, and finally tripped over a dip in grass. He crumpled and tumbled for some time before landing flat on his back, breathing hard, chest heaving. He trembled as he tried to drag his mind away from his memories that now plagued him. 

            Two students wandered cautiously over, sent by the teacher to make sure Ran was ok. They looked down at him, trying to see if he was going to die or not. 

            "R…Ran?" one of them said. "Are you ok?" 

            Ran said nothing and kept his eyes closed. 

            "Ran…um…the…teacher wants to talk to you." 

            "…are you alive?" 

            Ran took one last deep breath before staggering up to his feet. His legs were weak and shaky from the run, and he was surprisingly hot despite the cold temperature and the useless gym uniform. 

            Somehow, he managed to walk back to the group unaided. The teacher dragged him aside. 

            "Ran, you got twelve seconds on that run. Twelve! Nobody's run it in twelve seconds. Ikari's best is thirteen and a half. How did you do it?" 

            Ran didn't answer. He was still trying to catch his breath. He needed something to drink; his mouth was unnaturally dry. 

            "…Well, see me after school today. I want to talk with you about joining the track team." 

            Ran nodded and swallowed. His eyes had gone back to their normal coldness after being scared and exhausted for some time. He stood up straight and walked over to a tree and sat under it. 

            "All right! That was good." The teacher was feigning normality. Everyone knew something was special about Ran now. Confused stares and curious whispers were cast at him from every angle. Ikari was shooting Ran dark looks. Obviously, he did not like being beaten. 

            Ran said nothing. Ran did nothing. He didn't want to draw any more attention to himself than he already had. 

            "Next up we have the fifty yard dash. Everybody line up!" 

            Ran got up from his comfortable spot under the tree and got in the single line. Again, he was the last. How did he always end up last? 

           The fifty yard dash looked so easy it was almost laughable. Even the slowest runners managed under twenty seconds. Ikari got under ten, along with another member of the track team. 

            And suddenly it was Ran's turn. 

            All voices hushed. The teacher was watching Ran with an air of anxiety around him. The sun continued to be hidden by the clouds, and a fine wind stirred Ran's deep red eartails. 

            "Ready?" said the teacher in an almost hushed voice. "Then…GO!" 

            Ran took off. This time he refused to let his memories get a hold on him, so he didn't go as fast as he had before. But the feeling of hundreds of pairs of eyes on him, the vicious pain in his lungs, the knowledge that everyone expected a masterpiece of a run from him… 

            He crossed the line in seven seconds. 

            Someone swore, and everyone exploded into a quiet conversation. Ran sighed inwardly; he just HAD to do that, didn't he? He just HAD to leap up to everybody's expectations, just HAD to reach for society's standards. He just HAD to try and be somebody. 

            He glared at the teacher when the man tried to approach him and headed for his tree again. Damnit, couldn't the class be over any sooner? 

            Something grabbed his shoulder. Instinctively, Ran whirled and slapped the hand off. He almost changed expressions when he saw Ikari and three of his friends standing behind him. 

            "So, it looks like the rumors about you weren't exaggerated after all." 

            "…" 

            "You're high strung from all that shit you pulled when you were a kid. Now I wonder, are you a mental case?" 

            "…" Ran refused to respond. Ikari glared and shoved Ran back into the tree. 

            "Look, Fujimiya. I don't know how you did it, but nobody bests me in track time. Nobody. You hear me?" 

            "…" 

            "Answer me, damnit!" Ikari punched Ran in the shoulder. "If you join the track team, your life will be hell. Got it? Don't join." 

            The man had one finger driving painfully into Ran's ribcage. He knocked it away when it got a bit too pressured. And stayed silent. 

            This got Ikari mad, and he slammed two fingers into the center of Ran's collarbone. Ran almost choked. 

            "Don't touch me! I know more about you than you think. You never talk because you're scared of what people will say. Is that it? Am I right? You're just afraid of everybody!" 

            Ran deigned to answer. 

            "Go on! Say it!" Ikari drove his fingers in harder. His friends backed off when they saw Ran's eyes narrow to a dangerous thinness. "You know it's true. You're so scared shitless of everybody because you think your old man will come back and finish you off for – " 

            That did it. 

            Several girls screamed as Ran grabbed Ikari's fingers and jerked the man's hand aside before tackling him to the ground. Within seconds, they were engaged in a full fledged fight, and the teacher was nowhere to be found. His assistants drew away from the fight in terror. A group of boys and some girls surrounded the fight, taunting and jeering. Some even tried to hit Ran as he punched Ikari in the face over and over. 

            Ikari was faring badly until he managed to get a knee in Ran's stomach. This flung the redhead off him, and he leapt up in the moment of triumph. Ran attacked him, and the two boys were suddenly on the ground again, rolling like wild dogs in a fight over a piece of meat. Punches were thrown wildly. 

            Suddenly, Ikari missed a punch, and Ran was on him like a crazed animal. Fists flew, knees jabbed, even fingernails clawed like wild. Yells of pain drew the attention of the teacher, who had finally reappeared, and he pushed his way through the crowd. 

            "Ikari! Fujimiya! Stop this! Stop this now!" 

            Ikari tried to force Ran off him, but the redhead was in a blind rage. He hadn't even heard the teacher, who was now panicking. 

            "Quick! Stop them! Pull them apart!" 

            Three students hauled Ran off Ikari, who was quickly surrounded by his friends and several girls. Ran clawed desperately at the air. He had to kill Ikari. He had to! He had to kill him for knowing. He had to. He had to. 

            "Fujimiya! Calm down. Stop that." Ran blinked once, suddenly realizing where he was. "Now who knows what happened here?" 

            Ikari spat blood from his mouth. 

            "He's crazy. Insane! He tried to kill me, and I didn't do anything!" 

            "Bullshit!" spat one boy who had been cheering Ran on. "You were goading him on to do it." The boy turned to the teacher, brushing silvery-white locks arrogantly from his eyes. "Ikari there was callin' Ran names, tellin' him not to beat him at track times. Then he started callin' Ran a coward, and here's the result!" The boy made an exaggerated gesture at Ikari, who was wiping blood off his mangled face. 

            The teacher frowned. He knew he had to send Ran in for detention, but Ikari was known for causing fights. 

            "…Well…both of you, get to the office. You can get patched up there. I'll help take Ikari." The teacher nodded at the silver haired boy. "You escort Fujimiya." 

            Ran found himself being dragged off by his savior, who was muttering darkly. 

           "I bet that Ikari'll twist the story so badly you'll be the only bad guy. Hah! Arrogant prick! But you sure showed him, eh?" 

            Ran only glared at the ground in front of him. He could hear Ikari yelling curses in his direction. 

            "You bastard! I'll get you back for this!" 

            "Shut up, Ikari," snapped one girl. "You'll get blood all over your shirt." 


	4. Roomates and a Poem

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. 

             Ran let the nurse bandage his arm. Ikari still wasn't here, which was a good thing; Ran didn't know if he could stand being anywhere near the man again. His threats of living hell if Ran joined the track team weren't what bothered Ran; there was no way he would have joined the team anyway. The teacher would be expecting him to come to the office after class. 

            Ran just wouldn't show up. 

            What bugged him was how much Ikari knew about his past. Ran shoved back the sudden flow of memories. He knew that if he let them come, he might throw up or pass out. Or maybe freak out and hurt the nurse, who was babbling ceaselessly about boys and fighting. Of course Ran wasn't paying attention, but it was like trying to do homework with a fly caught in the nearby window. 

            "…you just can't stop, can you! It's on and on and on with the fighting. I'm surprised one of you hasn't been caught with a gun yet!" 

            _She'd be even more surprised if she saw my locker. _

            "One day one of you will slip, and it'll be the end of the days here! I'll probably have a dead body on my hands." She slapped a particularly sensitive wound on Ran's shoulder. "There! Done! Now, off to your next class. And hurry up. I'm sure the other boy will be here any minute." 

            That was enough for Ran.  He picked up his stuff and headed out the door, having changed his clothes earlier. Back into the crowded halls, with only one class left for the day. 

            Fortunately, the one class he did *not* want to go to (besides pre-calc) didn't start for a few days. Oh, he had FOND memories of that class. Very fond. So for now he just had to deal with learning Shakespeare and other amazing authors… 

            Ran usually didn't pay attention in English class. 

~~~ 

            The end of the day brought eternal heaven. Ran ripped whatever books he needed from his locker and followed the huge group of students out the doors. He lived within walking distance of home, so what was the point in stepping on a bus? The temperature was crisp but not icy, slightly windy. It was still cloudy, though. 

            Ran looked up at the gray-brown sky and frowned slightly. This would be a pleasant walk home… 

            He lived in the city. Check that. INSIDE the city. The school was close to the local park, so it looked like it was in a suburb; truth be told, it was part of a sprawling urban maze. So Ran's walk home was not scenic. He nearly got run down five times while heading home…or, what he could call home. 

            The huge building was suddenly there, looming over him. He'd been so wrapped up in his inner monologue of how he was going to kill Ikari that he hadn't even noticed it. But there it was: the ten story apartment building. 

            Ran didn't know how to drive yet. Oh, he knew HOW, but he didn't have a car. Well, not his own, anyway. The red corvette that stood happily in his apartment's single parking space was his roommate's. 

            Yes…Fujimiya Ran had a roommate. 

            If he didn't find a place to live, he was told when he arrived, he would be put in a foster home. Almost instantly someone had spoken up. And so Ran was sent to an apartment, surprisingly well kept for its occupants. 

            Ran stalked up the stairwells and down countless halls. His roommate was, of course, out of school, claiming to be looking through colleges. Ran gave a snort. He knew what that lazy idiot did all day. Drink and watch TV and run through porno magazines. 

            A key was inserted into the lock, twisted, and the door opened. Ran heard someone singing in a room nearby, but couldn't hear any music. 

            "HAAAAAAAIIIIIRRR…" 

            _Must have the earphones on._

            Ran kicked his backpack into the far corner of the entering hallway, close to the kitchen, and stalked over to the living room door. Actually, there was no door; it was just an open doorway. 

            Sprawled all over the couch, gangly limbs draped over the abused cushions, a man with light brown hair sang happily to the music only he could hear at the moment. His hair nearly reached his shoulders, and he was wearing jeans with a purple button up shirt. The shirt, of course, was not buttoned. 

            One eye opened, slightly green-gold in color. A smile crossed the already grinning features. He pulled a tiny earphone out of his ear and waved carelessly. 

            "Yo, Ran!" 

            "Good afternoon, Yohji. Have you done any searching today?" 

            "Aaa, I just forgot." The man shrugged and popped the earphone back in his ear, quickly losing himself in the music. Ran groaned inwardly and headed to his room. 

            His room was small, but large enough to hold a bed, a desk, and a computer chair while providing free space. This free space was surprisingly clean, for a high school junior. His dirty clothes were piled in a plastic basket near his door instead of thrown mindlessly around the room. 

            Ran liked his neatness. 

            Calmly he walked over to his desk and sat down in front of the computer. Ahh, his computer. It was the one thing in the world he treasured deeply. Here was where he wrote his journals, which were safely stored on backup disks. Here was where he vented everything. Paper notebooks were for school; the computer was for his personal use. 

            He would have flipped it on except that Yohji gave a sharp cry from the living room. Ran sighed. 

            "What is it now?" 

            "I'm stuck!" 

            Figures. 

            Ran got up and headed back to the living room door. There was Yohji, his entire upper body stuck under the couch. His legs flailed uselessly as he tried to pull himself out. 

            "…" Ran grabbed the man's feet and jerked. Yohji yelped as he got a severe case of rugburn. 

            "Mouuuuu…" He sat up, having been dragged out by Ran's vicious attempt, and rubbed his stomach. "That's gonna burn tomorrow…the chicks'll ignore me!" 

            "Good. Maybe you can find a college to go to, then." 

            "Aww, gimme some time, kid!" 

            "Shut up. What time is it?" 

            "Ai. You just got home. Why are you asking?" 

            "Because I want to know." Ran glared down at the lanky blonde. "So tell me." 

            "How should I know? C'mon, chibi, gimme a little time to relax." 

            Ran bristled. He hated it when Yohji called him chibi. And the man had probably been relaxing all day. He slept until noon, then spent the rest of the day doing nothing. At about ten he got up, got dressed, and headed out to the clubs. 

            "…" 

            Ran, however, decided not to argue. No matter how well he did, no matter how quick-witted he was, Yohji always won verbal arguments. It seemed the man always had an excuse. 

            Now it was time for a snack, then homework. Ran headed to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. Inside was food. Mostly old food, but still good food. He drew out a bag of bread, a container of mayo, and some turkey. A sandwich was skillfully formed before he cleaned up. 

            Ran walked back to his room, munching his sandwich and carrying his backpack. He didn't shut his door as he went in; usually he didn't. Yohji might decide to have a spazz attack at any time. 

            Calmly he sat down at his desk and withdrew his math and English homework. That was all the homework he had for now. His math homework came quickly and easily. It was nothing more than numbers. Numbers had no meaning, unless you were counting bodies. Then numbers were important. 

            His math book went back into his backpack, along with his math notebook, and he opened his planner to see what his English homework was. 

            As usual, it was simple. So simple. Hawthorne. Why was he learning about this? It didn't matter. 

            _Write a poem about a house with glass in the walls. _

_           Glass…glass in the walls. Every time you turned you would see yourself. No matter where you went, there you were. There was no escape from yourself, from your past… _

            Ran blinked furiously. No. He wasn't going to remember his past. He wasn't going to remember the blinding fury and fear, the primal rage and terror, the – 

            No. 

            He blinked more, then put his pencil to the paper. 

            _Run _

_            Run as fast as you can _

_            Every side is against you _

_            Every man knows you perfectly _

_            Every move is predicted _

_            Nothing is sacred _

_            Nothing at all. Nothing. Not even the purest innocence, brought through by the most gentle of people. _

            Ran shook his head. No! He said he wouldn't remember. So he wouldn't. Nothing would bring him back to that eternal hell he'd lived in his whole life. 

            Nothing except this poem he had to write. 

            _Touch the walls _

_            Touch yourself _

_            Try to be alone _

_            You never are _

_            Always someone to see you _

_            Always someone to know you _

_            Blue hair and blue eyes. Laughter like a breeze in the flowers. A perfect image, a perfect girl. _

            No. 

            _Alone forever _

_            Meant to be _

_            Forever _

_            You will see yourself _

_            You are in the walls _

_            You can't escape yourself _

_            You can't escape what watches you forever _

_            Ran bit his lip. Shortly he stood up and walked over to the door. Pushing it shut with his entire body weight, listening to it click shut, hearing the screaming in his head. Hearing laughter tainted by pain. _

            Hearing a voice tell him it would be ok. Telling him not to worry. 

            The perfect girl, not afraid of anything. 

            Ran shut his eyes and leaned against the door, feeling tears stream down his face like silent rain. 


	5. Sunrises and German Class

Amor Fictus

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. 

            A soft groan escaped chapped lips as a figure rolled over in bed. Two dark eyes opened and found their vision blocked by strands of brown hair. A smile, a swipe of a graceful hand, and his vision was clear. Hidaka Ken looked out his single window and smiled peacefully. 

            The window was closed; winter was coming, and it would be cold soon. Ken sat up and stretched. Then he winced. His body hurt. Was it from the game, or from last night? He shivered slightly and rubbed his ribs. Must have been the game. 

            There were his clothes, lying peacefully on the floor. He pulled himself out of bed and reached for his clothing. He never slept with anything on. Lifting his clothes off the floor, he headed for his bathroom, where he took a quick shower and dressed before heading for the kitchen. 

            Ken lived with his legal guardian in a rather large apartment. His parents had died years back, when Ken had only been an infant, and he'd had no place to go. One person had come up and volunteered to take care of him, and thus Ken had lived with that person ever since. 

            But Ken shook away these thoughts. Dwelling on the past was no good. This was the present, here and now! He smiled as he rooted through the fridge for a good breakfast. First it was a shower, then breakfast, then head out for school. 

            Breakfast consisted of toast and cereal before Ken had to get out the door. He scribbled a note for his guardian, saying that Ken hadn't had time to prepare breakfast, and that there was bread in the bread box and cereal in the cabinets. Then Ken took his backpack and ran out the door. 

            It was chilly outside, but Ken didn't mind; he was wearing a jacket. It had his name on the back. His coat! He was a star soccer player. Of course he got a personalized jacket. He smiled as the wind brushed the tangles out of his hair. 

            Ken liked walking to school in the fall. Dead, dry leaves whipped around him in a frenzy while trees showed magnificently bright colors like red and yellow. Ken watched the sun rise in the sapphire sky and smiled. It was a perfect day. He just knew it. 

            He could even forget the secrets he hid deep within his mind. That's why he liked the fall so much. It was noisy, it was gorgeous, and there was always sunlight. Even when there wasn't, there was noise; thunder or rain. Winds constantly caused the dry leaves to shake and rattle. Ken loved the noise. It made him feel safer and more secure. 

            As he walked, Ken pondered over the events of yesterday. The early-morning game had been great. They were one behind, with just a few second left on the clock. The enemy forward had been going straight for him! No one could stop him! Ken remembered his fear as that ball headed straight for the net, away from him. So he dived! Oh, how he flew! And the ball had landed in his hands, he'd gotten a firm grip on it, and curled up on it. 

            They'd won! They'd won the championships! 

            Everyone had been ecstatic. They were all congratulating him, telling him what a great player he was. He said it had been a team effort; after all, if all his teammates hadn't gotten in the way of trying to stop the other man, who knows what would have happened? 

            He also remembered his triumphant return to school, and that moment he entered the lunch room from the lunch line. Everyone had been clapping, whistling, and cheering. Everyone except… 

            Ken frowned as he remembered seeing the redhead on the other side of the lunchroom. If he was correct, the other boy had been staring right at him. It unnerved him, but he refused to let it show. 

            Ken didn't let a lot of things show. 

            "Hey, Hidaka!" 

            Ken blinked, suddenly realizing that he'd arrived at school. 

            "Hidaka! Great save yesterday!" 

            "Ah, well, yeah, thanks!" he said, putting a hand to the back of his head. His friends all gathered around him as he walked, congratulating him on yesterday's events. 

            "Man, everyone will be talking about that save for years!" 

            "You're the best, Hidaka!" 

            "You're awesome, Ken!" 

            Ken smiled and laughed, accepting the congratulations graciously while screaming on the inside. 

            They went into the school building, the hustle and bustle of everything quickly surrounding and engulfing him. His friends waved and disappeared to their lockers and their other friends, leaving Ken all alone in the mass of bodies. He pushed his way to his locker and twisted open the metal door. 

            As he put his books away and took out the ones he needed, he heard a loud crash and someone swearing. Not that this was uncommon, but Ken didn't usually pay attention to these, and they therefore didn't register in his mind. So he turned slightly to see who was having the problems. 

            It was a boy with red hair and black clothing on. His backpack as slung in one elbow as he fought valiantly with his locker. Two eartails swung madly as he jerked and pulled at his locker. 

            Ken felt a little sorry for him. He seemed to be having such trouble… 

           So Ken got what he needed, shut his locker, and walked over to the boy, who was a good few inches taller than him. 

            "Want me to help you?" he asked with a smile. 

            The redhead looked at him, fixing Ken with an icy glare that Ken found far too familiar for his liking. Still, he kept on smiling. 

            "…I don't need your help." 

            Ken blinked, then shrugged and turned away. 

            "All right. Whatever." He walked off, never noticing that the redhead was looking at him. 

            As Ken walked the halls, people would congratulate him at random on his amazing save. He always thanked them and walked off smiling. He could never stop smiling. It was just him. Everyone expected Hidaka Ken to be smiling all the time, such a carefree young man with a great future. 

            Girls would occasionally ask him out. This was such a case; two girls walked up to him, both with seductive smiles. 

            "Hey, Ken," asked one. "We heard about your great save yesterday…do you think you would want to celebrate it with us?" She leaned over slightly, putting some of her weight onto Ken. 

            As expected, Ken blushed, and both girls giggled. 

            "N-no thanks." He smiled again. "I'd really love to, but I can't. My week's full up." 

            "Aww…well, next time you get a free spot…please come and tell me." They both smiled and walked off, shooting him longing glances at they went to their friends. He continued on to his first class, fighting back the urge to run screaming from the building. 

            He was so caught up in remembering what he had to do and couldn't do that he hardly remembered that this class was new. 

            It was German class. 

            He opened the door and suddenly remembered this. Mostly because there was no teacher sitting in the desk. The German teacher was never on time to class. He was also very popular with most of the students and with many of the teachers as well. Rumor had it he got a great paycheck, better than any of the other teachers. 

            The German teacher also happened to be the principal's son. 

            Ken slid into his seat. He'd had German for two quarters last year, and he knew the perils of being late to class. If you were on time, you were like a normal student to the teacher. Should you be late, you were the pinnacle of the class lessons. Some kids loved this, and were purposely late. Others were terrified of it and were always early. 

            The bell rang, and only two students scrambled to their seats. Then in walked the teacher. He came in with the grace of a cat and sat down on his desk, legs and arms crossed. This teacher was the only one who didn't wear something professional to school and yet somehow managed to look superior. He was wearing white slacks and white shoes, along with a green button up jacket that had a white shirt under it. You could still see some of his chest, though. The girls loved him, the guys thought he was just great. 

            "Morgen!" he said with a smile. "For those of you who are new to this class, my name is Schuldig. No Mr. or Sir unless I tell you. However, you are free to call me Herr Schuldig." Again he flashed that dazzling smile, and the girls all swooned. "Now then, I'll call your name. Just tell me if you're here, English or German." 

            He started off, listing off every child's name as though he'd had them for four years instead of one or none. How he could pronounce those names was amazing; he was hardly hindered by his German accent. 

            "Hidaka, Ken?" 

            "Here." 

            Ken blanched when he saw those God-awful jade green eyes land on him. Everybody else loved those eyes; they were always full of laughter and mischief. When they were on Ken, however, it was entirely different. 

            Ken knew that Schuldig was going to do something to him one day, and Ken knew it would be bad. 

            The man moved on, his eyes back on the paper. Ken sank into his seat slightly. His stomach was twisting like mad, but he couldn't get out of the class to go to the nurse. Schuldig never let anybody leave the class unless it was a total emergency. 

            "All right then, class. Since I'm sure those of you that know the basics of German are ready to move on, please take out your books and begin at chapter seven. The rest of you, listen up!" 

            Ken dutifully pulled out his book and opened it to the respective page. Schuldig and the book taught the children basic German at first, then slowly upped them to much harder things. By the time they left high school, they would know as much German as they could possibly hold. 

            Ken followed the words he was reading with his fingers, feeling tears well up behind his eyes. He refused to let them fall. 

            After all, his mask might rust. 


	6. Promises and Meetings

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs tome. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. 

            Ken finished up his German lesson a little later than all the other kids. That was to be expected; it was Ken's style. He was always just a little behind but always keeping up with everybody else. Everyone knew this, and everyone accepted it. 

            Ken hated it, but what could he do? Society rules, majority rules, PR among the masses. They were used to him by now. If he didn't do what was expected, his entire life could come crashing down around his shoulders. 

            Not that it wouldn't do that anyway… 

            The bell had rung a few minutes ago, and most of the class was already gone. It was lunchtime already. Ken was packing his stuff up when the only other kid in the room shot out the door, not wanting to miss lunch at all. Ken didn't mind this. 

            Until he heard the door shut. 

            He stopped moving and looked up, thinking maybe the other student had moved so fast that the door had shut by accident. But no. There was Schuldig, standing by the door, one hand on the doorknob, and a sadistic grin on his face as he looked at Ken.  

            Ken's breath caught in his throat. Those jade eyes were gazing at him in a way he really didn't like. Now he remembered why this class made his stomach turn. He'd forgotten that he had to get out of the room before everybody else. 

            "So where were you yesterday, Ken, leibe?" The man locked the classroom door. "Ahhh…that's right. You had a game. Such an early game…you missed my class." Schuldig turned and started walking toward him. "And I missed you. It's been all summer, Ken!" 

            Ken backed up at the same pace Schuldig was advancing until he hit the bookcase at the back of the room. This brought back enough memories to terrify Ken, but he'd learned not to show his emotions. 

            "You never talked to me over the summer," said Schuldig in a soft voice as he stood in front of Ken, who was looking to the side. "I wondered if maybe you'd forgotten my address." 

            "You never gave it to me," Ken said almost inaudibly. Schuldig heard it, though. And he laughed. He smiled a cold, cruel smile at the boy he'd chosen for his own. He wanted a piece of this beautiful, athletic figure. 

            But Ken never liked him in return. Despite everything he'd done, all the subtle tactics he'd used, Ken had never shown any feelings for him. So Schuldig had one day simply decided to take action… 

            One hand reached out and cupped the side of Ken's face, making the boy's head turn to face him. Ken's eyes were shut, as if he was trying to ignore what was happening to him. 

            "I know…but I hoped you'd find out." Schuldig leaned down a little to plant his lips on Ken's forehead. The boy's body temperature was higher than normal, proving that he was nervous. Schuldig smiled internally. It was so much fun to manipulate his students. 

            "I…I need to…get to lunch…" 

            "Do you?" Schuldig asked, playing with Ken's hair. 

            "Y…yes….they'll wonder where I am…" 

            "So you'll just tell them what you told them before," Schuldig whispered as he ran his free hand along Ken's back, under his shirt. "You'll just tell them that you needed help with the homework." 

            "There hasn't…" Ken couldn't finish as Schuldich put two fingers over Ken's mouth. 

            "I assigned some today. You needed help with that." Ken kept his eyes shut as he felt Schuldig's breath on his face. He hated this. He hated this. He wished to God that Schuldig hadn't picked HIM to be the little love slave of the year. The first time this had happened, he'd been so shocked that he hadn't spoken to anyone the rest of the day. 

            "Ken," said Schuldig, pulling the boy close to him, "you know you don't have to spend the rest of your life alone. You could be mine…" 

            Ken's eyes shut tighter, and tears appeared at the corners of his eyes. He was afraid of this. He had prayed every day since the beginning of this horror that Schuldig wouldn't ask him that. But now…it had come. 

            "Schuldig…I…already have…someone." 

            He felt the man tense around him. Suddenly the arms around his body became unbearably tight; he gasped for air as it was forced out of his lungs. 

            "You…do?" said Schuldig quietly. "But…I've never seen you with anybody…never! Never in the halls. Never at lunch. All the girls flirt with you but you've never gone out with one of them…how? Who?!" 

            "It's…it's none of your business," Ken whispered. Schuldig crushed Ken to himself. Ken could hear the man's heartbeat, could hear his breathing. Schuldig's breathing was hard and fast. 

            "It's all of my business." 

            Suddenly, Schuldig put his head next to Ken's and began to whisper into the boy's ear. 

            "I don't care what you say or what anybody else says. I will have you one day. No lover can stop me, whether student or not." As if he wished to slam his point home, Schuldig then forced Ken into a rough, painful kiss, commanded by Schuldig. Ken winced as his spine was rubbed painfully against the bookshelf behind him. Schuldig had an almost agonizingly tight grip on Ken's arms, so as not to let the boy get away. 

            Then it was over. Schuldig let Ken go and pushed the boy into a desk. 

            "Go on. Get to lunch. I'd hate for you to miss it." 

            That smile…Ken wanted to rip it off his teacher's face. 

            As he put his stuff away, he felt Schuldig's gaze all over him. Ken kept his eyes shut and forced back the tears. He knew he couldn't tell anybody about this. It wasn't that he was afraid of Schuldig would do; it was that he was afraid to ruin his reputation. Everyone would be shocked by a scandal like this. 

            If he had told somebody after the first time it happened, all would have been well. But no, he kept it a secret, and now if he told, he would be called a slut and a whore. His entire life would, as he said, come crashing down around his shoulders. 

            Before he left the room, Schuldig shot him one more lust filled glare. Ken pulled himself together and left the room so fast the door slammed shut behind him. 

            Despite the heat of the school building (they had already turned on the heat even though there was no snow on the ground yet), Ken felt icy cold. Schuldig made him feel small and insignificant. So small that Ken just wanted to curl up and scream forever. To hide from everyone who had ever seen him. 

            He was so lost inside himself that he didn't notice that someone was coming in the opposite direction. They crashed right into each other, books flying, papers scattering, limbs tangled. 

            "Ack!" 

            "Aaah!" 

            Ken landed on his knees. Gently rubbing his forehead, he looked over at victim of his clumsiness. It was a boy who looked hardly older than 15, with wheat colored hair and pain filled cerulean eyes. He was wearing a red sweater and faded blue jeans. He had managed to land on his rear end, and was rubbing his head absentmindedly. 

            Then he noticed that Ken was looking at him, and just about flew into the air before landing back on his knees. 

            "Ahhh!! Gomen! I wasn't watching where I was going and, well, argh!" He started shuffling through the papers, trying to determine which were his and which weren't. He was obviously distressed. 

            "It's ok," Ken said, smiling slightly and separating books. "I wasn't watching where I was going, either. What's your name?" 

            "Tsukiyono Omi!" said the boy with an unusual amount of happiness in his voice for someone who'd just been run into. He smiled at Ken, a smile full of sunshine and flowers. Sweet, innocent, and pretty. 

            "I'm Ken. Here, this is yo – " 

            "Ken?!" Omi interrupted, blinking rapidly. "Y-you mean, Hidaka Ken, the master goalie of the school soccer team?!!" 

            Ken sighed internally and nodded. 

            "Yeah, that's me…" 

            "Oh, maaannnn!!!" Omi wailed. Ken stared. "I can't believe this! I was so clumsy that I tripped you! I'm sorry, I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to do it! Are you ok?!" 

            "I'm fine," he said, a little taken aback by Omi's apparent distress. "What about you?" 

            "I'm just fine! I'm really sorry, really really sorry! I didn't mean to – " 

            "It's ok," Ken said a little angrily. He didn't like people who thought he was some kind of God that held precedence over life and death. "You don't need to keep apologizing, it was my fault, too." 

            "Oh! A-ano…ano…sorry." 

            "It's ok. Sorry that I sounded angry." Ken picked up a few of his books. "I'm just…a little preoccupied right now." 

            "Oh. Oh, ok." Omi picked up all of his stuff but didn't stand up. "Um…you look a little pale. And…is that a bruise?" Omi leaned nearer to Ken to look at his face. Ken immediately blushed bright red. Had Schuldig really left a bruise?! 

            "Wh-what are you talking about?" 

            "Here." Omi reached out and gently tapped the side of Ken's mouth. "You have a bruise. Right there." 

            Ken reached up and pressed on the spot. Pain instantly flared up, although it wasn't bad. 

            "Oh…oh, man….I didn't know it was there…" 

            "It doesn't look that bad," Omi said, sitting back on his knees. "How did you get it?" 

            Ken blanched, but quickly regained his composure. 

            "I m-must have gotten hit in the face with a ball or something earlier," he muttered. Omi nodded, still looking concerned. 

            "Well…it was nice to meet you, Ken-kun." Omi looked at his watch and suddenly leapt into the air again. "Aaaaaaahhh!!! I'm late!" He took off down the hall. "Gomen, Ken-kun! I'm really late!!" 

            Ken watched him go, his hand still on the side of his face, and laughed a little. The kid must have been pretty scatterbrained to forget entirely about a class while he was talking to someone, especially when he was supposed to be in class. Not all the kids ate lunch at the same time. 

            Ken headed down to the lunchroom and was greeted by a chorus of hellos by his friends. 

            "Oi, Hidaka-san! Sit here!" 

            "Ke~n-ku~n! I've got an extra lunch for you!" 

            "Ken, come over here! I want to talk to you about the game!" 

            "Yo! Ken!" Ken saw the soccer team, all sitting together, and went over. They had a lunch ready for him. "Where were you?" 

            "I had to get some help for tonight's homework and someone ran into me in the halls." 

            "Ah, figures. Well, eat up!" One of the forwards, Akira, slapped him on the shoulderblades. "We've got P.E. next, and it's with another class! Us against them!" 

            "What are we playing?" Ken said around a mouthful of hamburger. 

            "Frisbee," another boy said offhandedly. 

            "It'll be hard! We're playing against juniors." 

            "Yeah, but we won't loose. We've got Ken on our team!" 

            "I can't do everything," Ken murmured, blushing as his team hooted with laughter and threw food to each other. He looked around the lunchroom as he ate, wondering who he would be playing against. 

            His eyes followed a path across the lunchroom, and Ken suddenly found himself looking at a redhead sitting on a bench some distance away. His hair was darkish red, instead of flaming, like Schuldig's, and he had eartails… 

           Ken blinked. It was the boy from this morning, who had turned down Ken's offer to open his locker. Looking closer, Ken saw that this guy looked like he could easily be out of high school by now. He was wearing all black, and didn't even have a lunch. Didn't people usually eat lunch at lunch…? 

            "Oi! Hidaka! Whatcha lookin' at?" 

            "Ah! Nothing. Just looking." 

            "Mhm…come on, it's time for PE!" 

            Ken blinked. That seemed short…VERY short…was lunch really over? 

            "Are you sure?" 

            "Of course I'm sure!" Ken noticed that everyone else was indeed getting up and heading out the doors. He picked up his stuff and dumped his lunch in a huge barrel. 

            The gym locker rooms were total crap, but Ken had a great spot because he was on the soccer team. He and his buddies went over to their economy-sized lockers and changed, laughing and talking. Ken didn't notice anybody other than his friends until they all got outside, and then realized that they WERE playing against juniors. 

            "Ok! Juniors, line up here! Sophomores, over here!" The PE teacher pointed to two spots, and everybody gathered according to their grade level. "All right. Today we're playing frisbee, but it's an official game, not just throwing this around." He flipped a beaten white frisbee into the air. Ken followed it with his eyes, and noticed that the sky had begun to cloud over. He stuck a foot into the ground and dug around. 

            _The ground feels wet… _

_            "You'll play it like you play football. Throw it to your teammates, try to get it down the field to your goal. The first team to reach 15 points wins. Got it?" _

            Everybody nodded. 

            "Ok! Here are the teams." The teacher started dividing everybody up into four groups, boys and girls. There were two fields on the grounds for football, so they would be playing in two groups. Plus there were two teachers and both could coach a game. 

            Ken followed his team to the field, and smirked at his opponents as the teacher for this game pointed out positions and explained the rules. 

            "All right! You boys ready? GO!" 

            The frisbee whipped into the air. It was pursued by twenty-two pairs of feet while the other eight ran down the field both directions to catch the frisbee depending on what direction it was thrown. 

            "I got it!" One boy snatched it out of the air and flung it down to one of his teammates, only to have it intercepted by an opponent and thrown the other direction. 

            Thus the game was off to a furious start. Ken played as hard as he did in his soccer matches because he was smaller than most of the juniors. He pushed himself insane amounts past his limits in order to outrace the older boys, and eventually he almost collapsed. 

            "Oi, Hidaka! You all right?" asked the teacher. 

            "I'm good!" he said. "Just pushing myself!" 

            "That's the athlete!" 

            Ken smiled and trotted back to his position while his guts twisted and squirmed. All the teachers expected him to be the perfect, wonderful athlete he made himself out to be…what if he just stopped… 

            "All right! Ready? GO!" 

            The frisbee whirled madly overhead. Ken saw where it was heading, and he ran, ran, ran like he'd never run before. He had been the furthest away from the frisbee when it started, so he had the best chance of catching it. He knew where it was going to land, he just knew! He tore like lightning, a wake of mud behind him. He never noticed the other boy, racing mere feet behind him and gaining. 

            "I've got it!" Ken screamed as he leapt into the air to catch the frisbee and land over the goal line. His fingers stretched, and his hands clasped over the white edge triumphantly – 

            Suddenly, someone else's hands slid over his, gripping the frisbee just as tightly as he was. Ken was so shocked by the sudden intrusion that he forgot to land properly, causing both him and the other boy to crash into the ground. Ken landed on his back, clutching the frisbee as close to his chest as he could, and looked up. 

            Right into two stunning violet eyes. 

            If anyone had been close enough to see this happen, they would have next assess that Ken apparently pinned to the ground under a junior with red hair and fairly pale skin. The junior's lower right arm was three inches from Ken's head to support his weight now that he had landed, and his left hand was clamped on the frisbee. Both boys were completely splattered with mud and breathing hard. 

            Ken stared into the face of the older man and, although he was in desperate need of air, felt his breath leave him. He knew who this was. The one from this morning, the one he saw at lunch. 

            His mouth was slightly open so he could breathe easier, and his eartails hung down, nearly brushing Ken's nose. But it was the eyes that Ken really only noticed; the beautiful amethyst crystals that stared right into his own plain brown ones. 

            Who knew someone could have such deep and piercing eyes? 

            The older boy hesitated for a moment before pushing himself off Ken and standing up. He extended one hand to Ken, offering to help him up. Ken blinked, coming out of his daze, and accepted it, feeling a blush spread across his face. He tried to brush the mud off his shirt, only succeeding to smear it further across the gray. 

            "Great catch, Hidaka!" Yelled one of his friends, who was running at him. Ken waved the frisbee a bit in response. He glanced over at the other boy, who was walking back down toward the end of the field, arms crossed, eyes averted. Ken gripped the frisbee, unable to say anything. 

            His friend crashed into him and ripped the frisbee from his hands. 

            "Hey, Ken! Great move! That was the last point, we won!" The sophomores were cheering down at the other end, while the juniors were groaning and yelling at the readhead who had just arrived near them. 

            Ken's friend noticed the apparent redness in Ken's face. 

            "Hey, Ken, you ok? You're blushing." Ken jumped a little and rubbed his face. 

            "Oh, um, I'm fine. Just out of breath." 

            "Heh. I don't blame you. That was an amazing catch. And you even beat a junior to it!" 

            "I…hey, Li, who was that guy, anyway?" 

            "Him?" Ken's black-haired companion squinted down the field at the target of junior ridicule. "I think his name's Ran. He's a real loner, nobody likes him. I've seen him once or twice at lunch, he doesn't have any friends." 

            "Oh…" 

            Li smiled at Ken. 

            "So what? You caught it! He's supposed to be a super runner, and you beat him!" The boy landed his hand on Ken's left shoulder. Something sharp shot through Ken's arm when he did this. Something sharp and extremely painful. Ken gasped and clutched at his arm. 

            "Ken? Ken! Are you ok?" asked a new arrival. 

            "Ken, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" Li asked, obviously agitated. 

            "N-no…I think I hurt myself when I landed…" Ken glanced at his shoulder through partially open eyes. 

            "Here, let me look at it." Li pried Ken's hand off his arm and lifted the sleeve. Ken heard a whistle. "Oi…" 

            "What? What?" Ken looked over. His arm didn't look that bad from where he could see. 

            "You've got a huge bruise here, Ken. Did that stupid junior do something to you?" 

            "No!...well, not on purpose…he landed on me…" 

            "Jeeze!" A nearby blonde shot a nasty glare down the field. "He wasn't careful at all! He landed right on you. Coulda broken your arm!" 

            "But…I'm fine. It's just a bruise." He smiled a little as the teacher came down. 

            "Excellent catch, Ken. Are you hurt?" 

            "Nothing serious, sir." 

            "Ok. Well, that's it for today. Get to the locker rooms and get changed!" 

            All the students, sophomores and juniors, headed for the locker rooms, chatting happily about wins or gloomily musing over losses. The junior boys were especially cold; one of them shoved Ran into a wall, yelling at him about being so incompetent as to not be able to outrace a stupid little kid. Ken winced slightly when he saw the force with which the violet-eyed boy hit the bricks. 

            It didn't seem to matter, though, because the other sophomore boys dragged him into the locker room and held a small celebration before the bell rang. Ken was the center of attention the entire time. Kids congratulated him, the teachers talked with him, people did replays of his amazing catch. 

            Ken kept his usual façade of merriment up while on the inside he knew it was just a lucky fluke. If he hadn't left the moment he had, then that junior, Ran, would have gotten there first. He could feel his stomach twisting with shame as he graciously accepted praise after praise. 

            He pulled his shirt on and turned around, fully dressed, to put his shoes on. As he did he saw Ran standing in the office, being reprimanded by the junior PE teacher. What for? Ken sighed a little. If it was because he had landed on him… 

            Ken saw a flash of violet in his direction, and instantly he felt another blush rise in his cheeks. He quickly sat down and began pulling on his shoes, quickly tying the laces so he could get to his next class as quickly as possible. 


	7. Nothing More than a Crush

            Amor Fictus 

            Written by Sakki-san 

            Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

            Anything you HAVE, doesn't. 

            Ken raced through the halls, gripping his books, avoiding friends and girls and basically everybody. He wanted to get to his next classroom, and _fast_. Why? 

            He wanted to think. 

            PE remained fresh in his mind. Not the running or the teamwork, but the encounter with…who was it again?…oh, right. Ran. That encounter… 

            He stumbled into the room when there were only a few kids in there. The teacher blinked at Ken. Usually Ken raced in a few seconds before the bell rang, not this early. Ken avoided meeting anyone's eyes and collapsed into his chair. 

            Ran. 

            Just one word. The name of a man with violet eyes. Ken went over the situation again, thinking each second over. He hadn't even heard that guy - Ran! His name is Ran! - coming up behind him. But suddenly there had been a pale hand on his, and the next thing he knew, he had been trapped under the older boy… 

            Ken blushed red. Damn! 

Every time he thought of that encounter he felt the blood rush to his face. They had been so close that their noses had almost been touching. So close that Ken could feel the other boy's breath on his face, just about feel his heart racing… 

            Ken squirmed as a deeper blush appeared on his face. If anybody saw this, what was he going to say? That a girl had finally caught his eye? Or the real reason? 

            Well, English class was a great place to ponder. 

            He sat and sighed, drawing circles on an unaltered page of his English notebook. What to think, what to think. He'd never thought of himself as gay before; certainly he was attracted to girls, but boys? It never even crossed his mind! 

            What to do, what to do. 

            The bell rang, and the last of the kids filed in. Ken glanced up while he swirled his pencil around to check up on the late arrivals, which were usually him. 

            His pencil fell from his hand, rolled off the desk, and clattered to the floor. His breathing came to a complete stop, and he just about choked. 

            Ran had just walked into the classroom. 

            Ken blinked once. Then twice. This…had to be an apparition. Ken had never seen Ran in this classroom before. Ran was a junior. This was a sophomore class. Juniors didn't join a group of younger kids for a class. This just wasn't physically possible! 

            _You've never really paid attention to the other students because you're always late, though. Isn't that right? _

_            Ken shook away the voice in his head. There was too much truth in those words. Ran was sitting near one corner of the room, hidden by a few other kids. Of course Ken wouldn't have seen him. Especially if he was out of breath, carrying a huge amount of books, and trying to find his seat. _

            As Ran passed between other seats, Ken glanced at him. 

            _God, he moves…he moves…like…a wildcat. _

_            A sleek, agile panther, maybe? A creature that stalked silently though the night, searching out prey and not just going for the sick or weak. Or perhaps a tiger? Ferocious and demonic, blending in with the surroundings so well that it could strike without ever being seen. _

            Either way, Ran still walked gracefully, like the world was his toy and it was following him around like a cape or a dog. Ken watched Ran take his seat out of the corner of his eye. 

            When Ran sat down, he glanced in Ken's direction, and the boy immediately looked back down to his papers. A crimson line spread across his cheeks. Ken slapped a hand to his face and felt the heat. 

            Damn! 

            He focused intensely on the blank sheet in front of him. He couldn't let Ran see him, not now, not after he'd been straight out looking at the older man and then blushing. As much as Ken knew how popular he was and that every girl and some guys in the school would fling themselves at his feet if he gave them the chance, he felt that if he let Ran see how he felt, the man would treat him like he was lower than the tiniest speck of dirt. It was evident in those icy purple eyes. 

            _Icy but gorgeous. _

_            Ken went a darker shade and shook his head. The teacher had begun speaking. _

            "…and then we'll grade it. All right, now for the schedule." The man picked up a stack of papers off his desk and stood up. "You will be working on projects in groups of two. These projects are 250 points, so don't loose them or slack off." 

            Kids started glancing at each other from other sides of the room, determining partners. Ken sighed a little. Well, at least he wouldn't have a hard time finding a partner, what with all the looks in his directions… 

            "I have picked your partners for you."  

            Squeals of indignation and yells of anger erupted from the classroom. 

            "What? But that's not fair!" 

            "It's perfectly fair," the teacher said with a frown. "These were generated by other students. I gave them the names and they paired people up. Just relax and take what you've got." 

            Kids grumbled, groaned, shot dirty looks at the teacher, who was done passing out the sheets of paper that introduced you to the project. 

            "Ok, listen up." Names were rattled off. One name, then 'you're with' and another name. Ken listened intently for his name. 

            _Maybe I'll get hooked up with that girl everyone says hates me. That's my kind of luck, isn't it? _

_            Ken crumpled part of his paper in his hands, but continued to listen. _

            "Hidaka, you're with Fujimiya." 

            Girls 'awwwwed' and guys cursed. Everyone wanted to be with Ken because he was a star student. Ken had never failed a class and all the teachers really liked him. Kids came to him for help and studied with him. Ken had the feeling they paid more attention to him than the work, though. 

            But…who was Fujimiya? 

            Ken looked around the room with his eyes, trying to figure out who his partner was. His eyes passed over sophomores and juniors alike before meeting with a pair of eyes that were locked on him. 

            Ran's. 

            He just about fell out of his chair. He…he… 

            _He was with Fujimiya Ran?!_

_            Ken broke contact with that violet gaze and stared at the introduction, which the teacher had just gotten into. _

            _Oh God. Oh my God. I'm his partner. Oh, man… _

_            Ken felt like crawling under his desk to die. By this time, Ran __had to know that Ken blushed every time he looked at the redhead. He had to suspect that something was going on in the boy's head. _

            After only one meeting. 

            The teacher talked through the entire introduction, explaining the writing project and that he would be going around giving away topics. You drew one from the hat, and that was it. Most kids groaned. Oh boy, this would be fun. 

           "Ok, go get together with your partners. Pull two desks together. After you get your topic, just start with a few ideas. Brainstorming is always the first step." 

            Ken gathered up his things and glanced over at Ran. The man's eyes weren't on him anymore, but on his pencil, which was moving rapidly across a blank page. Ken sighed a little and walked in that direction. He hadn't really expected Ran to come over to where he was. 

            He dragged a desk next to Ran's and slid in. 

            "Hey," he managed weakly. 

            "Hn," was all he got in reply. 

            Ken twisted his pencil nervously in his hands. God, this was…what was happening? Ken never felt this way about anybody. Well…there was that one exception…but that had long faded. Why was it coming back now? Was it because they had been that close, just about nose to nose, and if Ran had leaned in a little further, then they might have – 

            Ken restrained himself from slamming his hand over his eyes. Oh, God!! He was fantasizing about someone he hardly knew! 

            His exertion did not go unnoticed by Ran, who spared him a furtive glance. Ken just put down his pencil and covered his eyes, rubbing his temples. Damn, damn, damn… 

            Ken was so preoccupied that he didn't even notice when the teacher came by and Ran drew a slip of paper to determine their topic. He only realized this when Ran tapped him on the shoulder and showed him the paper. 

            _Write a story, true or made up, about an act of kindness that helped someone in a great or small manner. _

_            Ken almost snorted until he saw Ran's face, which was cold and impassive, as always. Only that it was fixed on him. Ken tried not to blush as he sat back and picked up his pencil again. _

            "W-well…I guess…we have to brainstorm now." 

            Ran drew a circle on a sheet of notebook paper and wrote 'kindness' on the inside. Ken took this as an invitation to start rattling off ideas. 

            "Kindness…a good act? Righteousness? Justice? Law?" 

            Ran glared at him. 

            "Erm…well…they were just suggestions…" He couldn't help but feel uncomfortable around Ran. The man was making him feel like a rock on the floor of a science room: there for no reason other than to be investigated and kicked around. 

            When Ran's glare didn't diminish, Ken glared back, feeling a new blush spread across his face. 

            "Well, I don't see you writing anything down!" he snapped, angry. To his surprise Ran blinked, the glare fading slightly to a look of surprise. Then he turned back to the paper and scribbled something down. Ken peered over to see it. 

            _Love. _

_            Ken blinked. That was…blunt. He hadn't expected something like that to be written down by someone as chilling as Ran. Love? What did Ran know about love? _

            _What do you know about Ran? _

_            Ken bit his lower lip. He knew nothing about Ran, and therefore he couldn't make any assumptions whatsoever on the man's life. Still, love just didn't seem right around a guy with such a dark seeming personality. He never spoke. Or, if he did, it was very infrequently. How many people like that knew love? _

            Ran tapped his pencil impatiently on the paper, giving Ken an expectant look. Ken blinked and turned his face away. He knew he was blushing again. Damn it all to hell! 

            "I-I don't…I don't know." He refused to make eye contact with Ran. He was starting to think that if he did, something worse than a blush would occur. 

            Ran snorted and scribbled something else down. When Ken tried to look over and see it, Ran covered the paper with his free hand. Ken blinked, then snarled and looked Ran in the face. 

            "Dammit, Ran! If you're going to cover everything you're writing, then how am I supposed to work on the project? It's called a 'group project' for a reason!" He paused for a breath. "If you don't show me what ideas you have, then I can't be part of the project. You'll have to do it all yourself!" 

            Ran stared at Ken, a disbelieving look on his face. His eyes were narrow, looking ready to kill. Ken, however, was not disturbed. 

            "I just want to see what you think about kindness. Is that such a huge problem for you? If there's something wrong with me seeing it, then you should write it on your own time!" Ken glared fiercely into Ran's dramatic purple eyes and waited for an answer. 

            Ran glared back…and then Ken saw a tiny smile begin to creep onto his face. 

            "What? What's so funny?" Ken snapped as he saw the smirk. 

            "You're being stupid." 

            Ken blinked. He was being stupid? 

            "…Well, who's the one who won't let me read what he's writing?" 

            "I wasn't done writing." 

            "Oh." 

            Ken blushed a little. So it was supposed to be a surprise or something. Well…he had been stupid. Kind of. 

            Ran's minuscule smirk faded from his face as he continued writing, then showed the paper to Ken. 

            Written in a circle attached to the center were the words: 

            _Someone who is not afraid to love others _

_            Ken mused silently over the words. Kindness…kindness is love. He scratched his mouth unconsciously and hit the bruise on the side of it. Instinctively he winced, and despite his attempts to hide it from Ran, the older boy looked right at him. _

            "What is it?" 

            "N-Nothing. I'm fine. It's just a bruise." Ken kept his hand over the edge of his mouth. 

            "Did I cause it?" 

            "Huh?" 

            "When I landed on you." 

            "Oh…" Ken blushed, remembering the occasion. "…I don't think so." 

            Ran looked back at the paper and started adding tiny, soulful pieces of information Ken had never heard of before. Love had not been very prominent in his life; he didn't know much about it, so he was silent as Ran wrote down these beautiful little comments. He didn't notice that he was leaning closer and closer as Ran wrote further and further out onto the paper. 

            Suddenly, he found his head making contact with Ran's shoulder, and both boys froze. Ken jerked away and flattened himself as far away from the older man as he could. Ran was staring at the paper, his pencil motionless. 

            "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to….I mean…I didn't try to…I just…I wanted…I had to…" 

            "It's ok." Ran regained his composure first and started to write again. Ken tried not to glance at Ran, but he found his eyes darting at the man for just a moment. He almost did a double take. 

            Was that a tinge of red in the older man's face?! 

~~~

            Ken walked slowly along the sidewalks outside the school.        He kicked the swirling brown leaves around with his feet, completely silent as he pondered over the day's events. 

            Ran. 

            The name of a man with violet eyes… 

            A tiny sigh escaped his chapped lips as he turned his face to look up at the sky. It was a beautiful, clear, endless blue sea, dotted with puffy white clouds and the occasional leaf. Sunbeams sprayed across the sky like angels descending from heaven. 

            Ken smiled slightly and squinted. If he looked hard enough, he could see those gorgeous eyes plastered against the sky, with wavy scarlet locks blowing gently across them. 

            A sudden thought struck Ken, and he opened his eyes wide. 

            Did he have his first crush? 

            But…he couldn't have a crush. No. It was impossible. He'd never…never loved. 

            He denied it, but that little voice at the back of his head nagged at him. The facts added up. Every time he looked at Ran, he caught himself blushing. Every time he looked at something pretty or sparkling, he found himself thinking of Ran's perfect amethyst eyes. Just the mention of the man's name took Ken's breath away. 

            "I can't love," he murmured to himself softly, still gazing up at the sky. 

            "Ken-kun!" 

            Ken blinked and looked ahead. 

            "Ken-kun! Ken-kun!" Someone ran up behind Ken and was suddenly walking at his side, books clutched tightly to his chest. Ken looked over and saw Omi, the boy he'd crashed into early this morning. 

            "O-Omi?" he said, completely surprised. The boy smiled happily in return. 

            "That's me! Don't tell me you already forgot who I am!" 

            "No, I didn't." 

            "That's good! Anyway, I saw you walking, and I go this direction to get home, too. So I thought I'd catch up with you. What were you looking at?" 

            "What was I…?" 

            "When you were staring up at the sky." Omi shook his head slightly in the direction of the heavens. 

            "Oh…I was just looking at the sky." Ken looked over the rooftops of the buildings so far away and smiled slightly at the clouds, which seemed to hold the very essence of Ran's incredible speed. 

            "Really?" Omi said skeptically. "You seem a little more dazed than to just be looking at the sky." Ken found two crystalline cerulean eyes staring right into his. 

            "Eh…uh…" 

            "I think," Omi said, peering deep into Ken's eyes, "that you have something – or someone – on your mind." 

            "N-nani?!" Ken replied hastily. Omi smiled and turned back forward, walking with his books now clasped behind his back. 

            "You're very preoccupied, I believe," Omi began. "You have something you either like or hate that won't leave your mind, but you're fighting with yourself about it." Omi opened one eye and peeked at Ken. "Am I right?" 

            Ken stared. Was this boy a mind-reader?! That was exactly what was wrong with him right now. He had Aya, someone he liked – No! He couldn't! – on his mind, and the image of a dazzling smile on the man's face refused to leave. As for the fighting part… 

            "…you're either psychic or a very observant little spy," Ken said, looking straight ahead. 

            "I'm just observant." Omi waved one hand carelessly. "I like to understand people. It gets me more friends that way. And enemies," he added as an afterthought. 

            Ken smiled modestly. "I can understand how that would happen." 

            "Really?" Omi said unbelievingly. "You're one of the most popular kids in school. You have every girl and boy in the school throwing themselves at you and all the kids would be supremely honored to be your friend. Tell me, how would you know what having no friends is like?" 

            "When was younger," Ken said bitterly, "I had no friends whatsoever." 

            "Eh?" Omi blinked. 

            "When I was a freshman, I had no friends until I joined the soccer team." Ken pushed away the screeching terror that aided those memories. 

            "Oh," Omi said quietly. 

            They walked for some time without saying anything, Omi looking one way and Ken looking another. Emotions hovered in the air, eventually causing Ken to look up again. Brilliant azure and sparkling lavender, lined by a wave of crimson beauty… 

            "Omi?" called a voice some distance away. Omi blinked and turned his head to look ahead. A smile suddenly plastered itself on his face, and he waved one arm in the air. 

            "Nagi-kun! Nagi-kun!" Ken looked to see who Omi was calling to. 

            A boy with dark hair and eyes almost as large as Omi's was standing down at the far end of the sidewalk, near an intersection. He had on a dark blue school uniform. Ken raised an eyebrow; wasn't that the uniform for the iffy private school nearby…? 

            They approached Omi's friend and Omi instantly locked him in a hug. 

            "Nagi-kun! How are you?" Nagi smiled and held Omi out at arm's length. 

            "I'm fine. Are you all right? Who's your new friend?" The boy's voice was so quiet that Ken could hardly hear any emotion in it at all. Still, it was more friendly than Ran's tone. 

            "Nagi, this is Ken-kun. He's the goalie for the soccer team." Omi looked at Ken. "And this is Naoe Nagi." 

            Ken smiled and held out a hand, which Nagi took. 

            "Nice to meet you," Nagi said softly. 

            "You too," Ken replied. "Are you two brothers or just friends?" 

            "Brothers by adoption," Nagi said quickly before Omi could get a word in. 

            "Oh. So, you live together?" 

            "Mhm," Omi nodded. "Our house is way out on the edge of town." 

            "Don't you take a bus or something then?" 

            "Nah. We like to walk! We get rides to and from school if the weather is bad." Omi and Nagi both smiled with equal warmth despite the difference in size. 

            Ken smiled back, but inside he felt like he wanted to run away. Screaming? Maybe. He just wanted to get away from these two. He liked them both enough; in fact, they were pretty cool and he'd love to be friends with them. But they were both just so…so…happy. Happy about life. Far too optimistic for Ken to handle every day. 

            "Well, we should probably be getting home," Nagi said, disrupting Ken's thoughts. 

            "Yeah. Bye-bye, Ken-kun! See you tomorrow!" 

            Ken raised a hand in the air to wave them goodbye as the two of them walked off in the opposite direction of Ken's home. He watched them go and felt a sudden sense of longing, an urge to chase after them. 

            _No. You must go home. After all, you have homework to do, don't you? _

_            Ken sighed and headed across the street so he could finally find his way home. _

            Sometimes, he prolonged these walks, just to get home later. So he could spend more time outside, like he was not allowed at home. These nice, long walks home brought peace to Ken's inner turmoil. When he walked, he could think. 

            So he thought. 

            Schuldig. The first name to come to his mind. A man with flaming hair and a violent touch. Students who crossed him were often asked to stay after, and they would flee the room in moments with a bruise or a red mark on their face. Nobody paid attention to this. 

            Why? 

            Schuldig could get away with anything short of murder because he was the principal's son. Everyone knew the principal loved his son dearly and thought the boy would never do anything wrong. And from the way Schuldig usually acted, so did everyone else. 

            Ken pulled his textbooks closer, trying to fend off the chill from both inside and the wind. 

           Why? Why him? Why did Schuldig decide to assault him? It was like being tackled from behind. You don't expect it, so it shocks you into complete silence and submission. That's what had happened to him. 

            That first time…the first… 

            Ken clung to his books as if they were an anchor to falling into the black abyss of his own mind. No…he couldn't…couldn't remember that time. It was too painful to remember. If he remembered it, he might hurt himself. He might go insane and run into the street. 

            Although…would that be so bad? 

            NO! Ken shook his head. He couldn't die. He had a life to live! When he was 18 he could run wild and free from that school, play soccer, and get famous. Nobody would control him. Nobody! He'd be his own man, with his own life, and his own love! 

            Love? 

            Violet eyes. 

            _But…I can't have a crush. No, it's impossible. _

_            Or is it? _

_            Ken smiled dreamily as he envisioned Ran's hands running carelessly through his hair, and those perfectly formed lips moving forward to touch his… _

            _Just a crush. _


	8. I Never said No

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. 

            Ken walked leisurely along the sidewalks, locked away in his own little world of hopes and dreams (however small they may be). If life was kind, he would be a star J-league player with a future in his grasp, and Ran would return the same feelings to Ken and Ken felt for him. 

            But life was not kind, and Ken woke up from his dream when he saw his apartment complex come into view. 

            It was a large apartment complex, but it was only for people who had enough money to get in. Ken's guardian had enough money – more than enough – and could easily pay his way into the building. So they had lived there for several years now. Before, Ken remembered, they lived in a smaller building, but it was still a nice one. Ken kind of preferred that smaller one. 

            He fished a key out his pocket and headed to the large glass doors. The lock was there, and he pushed in key, twisted, and then pulled it out. Once he got inside, he entered the number on the padlock, pushed open the second set of doors, and walked in. 

            He was greeted by a rush of air for a moment, neither hot nor cold but somewhere in between. The woman who sat behind the desk looked up and smiled when she saw Ken. 

            "Good afternoon, Ken. How are you today?" 

            "I'm good. Thank you." 

            "That's good." 

            He headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time. He wanted to get his homework done. Plus, he was hungry. PE had really taken a lot out of him. Especially when Ran had – 

            No! 

            Ken felt another blush come on. Oh, damn! Would this never stop? Couldn't he even think about the crimson-haired beauty in peace? 

            He realized what he'd just thought and went an even darker shade of red. 

            His apartment was close to the middle, so he had a good amount of time to get rid of the color in his face. His door number was 33. Third floor, third room. Quietly he inserted the key into the lock, turned it, and pushed open the door. 

            The faint sounds of a television could be heard, but that was all. Ken sighed a little and pulled his key from the lock. The door shut quietly. He re-locked the door, took off his shoes, and headed for his room to go put his backpack away. Nobody called his name. Nobody made any mention that he had come home. 

            First he set his backpack down. Then he headed back into the kitchen to prepare dinner. They always ate dinner early for some reason; maybe so they could have another snack later. This had always been life. 

            So Ken began to cut up the ingredients for tonight's soup. He sliced, he chopped, he cut. Water boiled on the stove. The smells of a good dinner hung in the air, and Ken never heard the other person enter the room. 

            Suddenly, he felt someone's breath on the back of his neck; hands slid over his own and lips played with his hairline. Ken's insides turned to ice. 

            No words were spoken. There were only movements. Only hands caressing his arms and shoulders, only the lips brushing along his neck. He didn't move. He couldn't move. No. He knew this wasn't right, but it was the way life was. It was like being with Schuldig…only he knew that this was different. Much, much different. The touch was lighter, softer, less demanding… 

            But equally dangerous… 

            A voice whispered into his ear. 

            "Good afternoon, Ken." 

            Ken bit his lip. 

            "I'll bring in dinner when it's ready. You know that." 

            The person behind him laughed quietly, and the hands dropped. 

            "Yes. I know. It's nice to see you home again." 

            Ken heard the footsteps recede from the room. He bit his lip again and shakily went back to preparing dinner. 

            Why…why him? 

            His thoughts twisted violently in his head while his hands moved the spoon in the soup around and around, around and around. He watched bits of vegetables appear and disappear in the fine broth that bubbled in the pot. 

            Stirring, stirring, stirring. 

            He blinked slightly. Had…there just been someone else in the room…again? 

            Oh, no…he was getting emotional again. He hated it when that happened. His thoughts would start to wander, his body would collapse, and then he'd wake up in the same place that he had fallen. Nobody loved him like a mother or a father. Hell, nobody loved _him. Schuldig only wanted his body. And as for his guardian… _

            Carefully, Ken cut some bread and spread butter across it. Two slices, exactly the same. Then he placed a few slices of meat on the sides of two plates, next to the bread. Slowly he ladled soup into two bowls and set those on the plates as well. 

           A wooden tray sat nearby, and Ken placed one of the plates on it. An added drink of water was set next to the plate, a spoon in the bowl, and a fork next to the plate. He lifted up the tray and headed into the living room. 

            A person sat on the couch, legs crossed, with a newspaper held up and open so Ken couldn't see his face. A small table sat in front of the couch. Ken walked up to it, set down the tray, and backed up. 

            The television was on. The volume was turned down low, so low that Ken could hardly hear it. The news was also on, but it was a tape. It was describing a set of murders that had happened a few months back. Ken ignored the gory details and checked the date on the newspaper before leaving the room. 

            As soon as he reached the door, however, a voice began speaking from the other side of the newspaper. 

            "How was your day?" 

            Ken lifted a hand and set it against the doorframe, feeling his eyes narrow in half-fear, half-resignation to a more powerful force. 

            "It was normal." 

            "Nothing special? Nothing exciting?" 

            "Nothing at all." 

            "I see." 

            Something occurred to Ken just then. He half turned, his right hand still on the doorframe, and looked at the newspaper. 

            "Um…I…wanted to ask you something." 

            He took the following silence as an invitation to speak. 

            "The new soccer season starts next spring, but we begin training in two weeks…so…I wanted to know if you thought it was ok for me to sign up again." 

            "You're asking me?" 

            "I just wanted to make sure." Ken looked back out the doorway. 

            "I can come pick you up after practices." 

            "Thank you." 

            The last words were hardly more than a whisper. Slowly, Ken walked out of the room, his eyes fixated on the hardwood floor. Another season of soccer would secure his position of most sought-after guy for the remainder of the year. 

            Did he still want that, was the question. 

            It was still early in the day, so Ken wandered into his room to do his homework. It was simple work: he had to do a little brainstorming for the English assignment and then his German homework. Good with bad. Black with white. Gray? No, no gray…nothing in between. 

            He sighed and walked over to his window. Opening it brought in a rush of cool air, a welcome change from the heat of his room and the kitchen. He opened his eyes and looked outside. 

            It was a beautiful fall day. Browns and golds, reds and oranges and yellows. Explosions of color were everywhere Ken looked. They swayed with the breeze and glowed in the sunlight. Light, puffy clouds drifted lazily through the sky, which was gradually fading in the fine rays of sun that were starting to hide behind exceptionally tall trees. 

            A smile grew on Ken's face as a breeze brushed hair out of his faces. For a moment, he forgot all his worries, all his problems. Everything just faded away into the splendor of the world. Nothing mattered. Life was good, you should enjoy it. If you're a good, kind person, then life will treat you well in return. The kind people lived good lives, with a clean conscience and a first-rate set of memories… 

            Ken blinked. The world faded, and reality came back to hit him in the face. But it wasn't a bad reality. He walked back to his desk and sat down, pulled out a clean sheet of notebook paper, and wrote at the top 'Kindness'. Under that, he began listing things. 

            _Kind people live excellent lives _

_            Kind people are those who aren't afraid to forgive others _

_            Kindness is people who live happily _

_            He chewed the end of his eraser. They looked so stupid written down. They sounded so good in his head, though… _

            Eh, who cared? They were just ideas, suggestions, thoughts. Who really paid any attention to what he thought? 

            Maybe Ran would like these… 

            He shook his head viciously. No. No. There was no time to dream about someone who obviously didn't like you and never would. Ken just about ripped his eraser off the end of his pencil with his teeth. 

            _You have no time to dream…it's getting late. You should finish your homework. _

            Ken released a sigh and looked back down at his paper. Yes…finishing his homework would be good. 

            Three pages later, he had finished both his English and German homework. He'd had trouble penning down the words for German when he knew the man who taught them. 

            If he hadn't joined the soccer team, would things have been different? Would Schuldig still have gone after him, dragged him into rooms and cornered him against walls? Would the flame-haired man still have wanted to – 

            No. 

            The sun was starting to vanish, and the second meal would have to be ready soon. Ken was a little surprised at the time, 5:40. He prepared dinner around now, and served it at 6:00. 

            He gathered all his things together and put them in his backpack, then headed for the kitchen again. He left his window open so the room would hopefully cool down. Maybe it would stay cool all night. 

            The kitchen was ready for him. Ken started preparing the smaller meal of the day. It didn't really have a name. He just made it so he wouldn't go to bed starving. His guardian usually wanted some, too. Tonight would likely be no different, so Ken made the usual double portion of sandwiches and a drink and headed for the living room again. 

            The news on the TV had changed. It was today's news, mostly about a storm that was pulling in up north. Ken noted that the newspaper had changed as well because he checked the date when he set down the food. 

            "Stay here for a little while." 

            Ken jumped in surprise as he heard the voice. He didn't rattle the food, and instead placed it carefully on the glass surface of the table. As soon as it was secure he knelt on the other side of the table, eyes locked on the reflective surface. 

            The bruise from before was still visible. He didn't reach for it. Maybe it wouldn't be noticed…? 

            The newspaper shut slowly, and one hand reached down and touched a sandwich. Ken didn't look. He could understand what was going on, and he preferred not to look whenever his guardian chose for him to remain during meals. 

            "You look injured." 

            Damn. He'd noticed. 

            "I tripped during PE today." 

            "You tripped?" the voice responded, sounding skeptical. 

            "I was tired and missed my landing." It wasn't a lie; Ken hated to lie. He was just saying what had happened and omitting details. 

            "Ah." There was silence for some time. Ken noticed that the food remained perfectly still. 

            His insides froze over again as his guardian stood up and walked over to the other side of the table, then knelt behind him. 

            "I have the feeling," whispered a voice in his ear, "that you're not telling me the whole truth." 

            Ken didn't move. His hands were clasped firmly in his lap, and he could hardly feel himself breathing. All he could hear was the voice and his heartbeat. 

            Two hands roamed over his body, stopping only at his waist. He shivered when they slid under his shirt and touched his bruised and battered skin. Those hands…were icy cold… 

            "Why can't you just tell me what it is? Something happened that wasn't just an accident." 

            "I told you -" Ken could hardly find his own voice – "that I missed my landing. We…" 

            He trailed off as the hands slid up onto his ribcage, feeling the bones through a thin layer of skin. 

            "You're lying." 

            A sharp pain shot suddenly through Ken's chest as one finger moved from the center of his ribcage to the bottom edge, where there was a very prominent bruise, and pressed down. He choked and tried to double over, but the other hand caught his chest and forced him up. 

            "I…I'm not…we were playing against older boys and I was running too much…" Ken coughed violently as the hand pressed down on the bruise a little harder. "I tried to c-catch it, the frisbee, I mean, I landed wrong…" 

            "Ah." 

            The arms slid and locked around his waist, pulling him back into the body of the man behind him. Hands lifted his own and traced Ken's slender, delicate fingers with a loving grace. 

            Ken shut his eyes and tried to block out this…invasion. At least it wasn't so violent…at least this time it wasn't forceful… 

            Ken let his lover seduce him freely for another five minutes before he was released. 

            He knew what this meant. It meant that it was time for him to go to bed. This happened occasionally. Just a momentary intrusion, nothing more. Slowly, Ken stood up and headed for his bedroom. 

            His bedroom was cold, but not as cold as the icy touch of just a few moments ago. He went over to his window and closed it, watching as the last rays of sunlight faded from view, leaving a navy sky in their wake. 

            Everything seemed so insignificant. His existence, for one… 

            _You can't die. You have to live. _

_            Live for what? _

_            Ken felt tears welling up behind his eyes. Here, in his room, he could take off his mask and throw it aside. Tears could fall freely across the untouched flesh of his true face. His mask would not be damaged if he cried now. _

            Closing the curtains, Ken pulled his shirt off. Soon after came his socks and pants, and finally, his boxers. He flung himself onto his unmade bed and wrenched the covers up over his body, buried his face in his pillow, and cried. 

            Cried. Cried for parents he never knew, for a life he would never experience. Cried for the agony that built up inside him every day, for the agony that was inflicted on his body every time someone touched him. Cried for the abuse he got. Cried for the love he craved. Cried because he would never receive that love. He could dream and wish and hope and hallucinate, even, but nobody would ever love him. Nobody would ever love the perfect boy, the young man on top of everything and everybody. No matter how much he prayed that maybe, just maybe, someone would look at him like they wanted to get to know him on the inside, not like they wanted to sleep with him, he knew on the inside he would never get a look like that. 

            He bit down into his pillow and pulled. The cloth resisted, causing tension. Ken did this to keep from screaming. If he started screaming, certainly that man in the living room would come in to shut him up. 

            Nobody would ever treat Ken like he was a human being. They either treated him like he was a god, a piece of dirt, or a little toy for them to play with and discard at their will. Never just another person. Maybe…maybe if he hadn't joined the soccer team…things would have been better. He'd wanted friends so badly… 

            Now he was paying the price for his greed. Friends, indeed. He had more friends than he could ever need, and not one of them had ever invited him over to their house. For _anything. Parties, schoolwork, or just a get-together. Never. Him, the most popular kid in school. Everyone knew him, everyone thought he was so great. Yet he had never received a phone call in his life. _

            Sometimes, Ken wondered if it was really worth living any more… 

            Time passed as he cried and ripped at his pillow. Enough time that the sky grew dark and his room with it. After a while, his tears stopped, but his pillow was soaked. Ken didn't mind, though…it had happened before. It stung, too. The tears on his face had cascaded like a silent waterfall for about two hours and burned into his face. 

            He had lied before…the skin on his face was not untouched. His mask had barbs on the inside. The tears had fallen into those cuts and burned like fire. 

            Ken was locked away in his own mind so deeply that he never heard the door opening, but he did hear it closing. 

            _Tonight? Again? But didn't you do this last night…? _

_            He heard soft footsteps heading for his bed, and the telltale sound of cloth hitting the floor. His arms were next to his head, slightly bent, so he could keep his pillow from moving. Now his hands tightened into fists around parts of the pillowcase to keep himself from whirling and striking the form in his room. _

            Ken felt the covers lift, and someone slid into his bed next to him. His eyes shut tight as he felt hands on his back. 

            His mind went blank. Totally empty. Complete darkness engulfed him. Thoughts fled from his mental vision as a force came closer and closer to him. Words were whispered in his ears, hands gently caressed his shoulders, lips toyed along his hairline. All the while Ken tried desperately to ignore it – and ignore the coming pain. 

            And less than a mile away, in a second, less lavish apartment complex, Ran blasted awake as a throbbing pain screamed through his thighs and waist. 


	9. Nightmares and Knives

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. 

            Ran supported himself on his elbows, shocked eyes wide, his mouth open as he gasped for air. His chest heaved up and down, up and down. A sharp pain raced around in his legs and just below his waist. 

            He'd been having a nightmare. He was running on the field in PE again, chasing after the frisbee. That sophomore, Ken, was ahead of him, and he was catching up again. They both jumped at the same time, and Ken gave that triumphant scream. And, just like before, Ran had reached over him to get the frisbee, feeling the jerk of shock from Ken as someone actually caught the frisbee with him. Just like before, they landed, Ran on top of Ken, his legs on either side of the younger boy's own, his arms on opposite sides of Ken's chest. He looked down again. 

            Somehow, the frisbee was gone, and Ken's arms were lying at his sides. His eyes were staring fearfully up into Ran's. Ran remembered his first thoughts at this sudden amazing position, the ones he'd actually had in real life. 

            Only this time there was no one watching him, no one around at all. The entire schoolyard was empty of people other than him and Ken. So this time, instead of getting up and helping the younger boy up, he lowered his head and parted his lips slightly, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he would get to indulge in the urges he so suddenly felt at that moment… 

           But then he was thrown back, off of Ken, and crashed into the ground. There was a wall behind him when he landed. His head snapped back and cracked against the concrete, causing a major headache and only partial consciousness. Yet through a dazed vision he tried to see Ken. 

            The boy was missing, and in his place was a shadowy figure. No, not shadowy…entirely white. Fuzzy and entirely white. The only discernable things about the image besides the body were two entirely black eyes. It slowly walked toward him. 

            The most shocking part of the nightmare – and possibly most terrifying – was when Ran reached up to touch the back of his head and found that his shirt was missing. Looking down he realized that he was entirely naked. A ferocious terror seized him, and he tried to get up and run, but suddenly the white figure was pinning him down, its face getting closer and closer to his, and its legs keeping his from closing together. 

           He remembered the panic, the dead-out fright as those icy white lips closed tightly over his own, and then the blazing, unending pain just after something brushed against his thighs. 

            And then he woke up. 

            Now he was sitting straight up in bed, his dread fading as he recognized his own room and the blankets covering his partially clothed body. Carefully, almost anxiously, he lifted the blankets, half expecting to see his bed drenched with blood. 

            However, it was dry, completely dry, if not soaked with sweat. He dropped the blankets and collapsed back onto his bed. He ran one shaking hand through his hair, shoving the damp red strands away from his face. 

            Usually, Ran's nightmares were reminiscent of his terrifying, bloody past. But this? He'd never been touched like that in his life. Nobody had ever looked at him in a way other than hate or fear. He'd suffered violence, murder, everything that had to do with killing… 

            Rape? 

            It had never happened to him. It had happened around him, but never to anyone he knew. Well, not that he was aware of , anyway… 

            Still. It scared him. Why would he have a nightmare about something like that? And why was Ken in it? 

            He reminisced about the day. He really hadn't expected to tackle Ken, but it had been an accident…he hadn't expected Ken to act the way he did and miss a landing. Then they'd both crashed, him on top of Ken, in a position that, if anybody had seen, would have questioned furiously. 

            The first thing that had come into his mind was holy shit. The second thing was kiss him. Now why the hell he'd thought that was completely unknown to him. Certainly he couldn't have done that. 

            Nobody liked him. Not even the losers of his own rank. So why should the most popular kid in the school even consider him at all? Ran thought that the only reason the boy hadn't shoved Ran off him was because Ran was a junior. Or maybe because the other boy was smaller than him, and possibly weaker. 

            Could there have been another reason? 

            During English, when they had been selected as partners, Ran had seen Ken blush furiously most of the hour. And when the boy had leaned over to see his words and accidentally leaned on him, there had been a definite note of embarrassment in his stuttered words. 

            Ran himself had blushed a little. Ken's body had felt so comforting on his shoulder, just like all those years ago with his s… 

            No. 

            You can't remember these things, and you can't like Ken. You don't deserve it. You don't deserve anything he might just barely consider giving to you. You are not someone to love, and therefore you are not someone to be loved. 

            Ran stared at his cracked ceiling and let his eyes shut slowly. One forearm rested on his forehead as he fiercely reminded himself that he could not be loved. 

            _So if he does like you, then what will you say to him? That you hate him? That he can't love you, that you can't love him? You might break his heart. _

_            Ran closed his eyes and tried to ignore the voices. It was late at night. He wanted sleep. It was almost nine at night, couldn't he get any sleep? _

            The sounds of Yohji getting ready in the bathroom only added to Ran's insomnia, and eventually he got out of bed. His pants were beaten sweatpants. Yohji's pajamas…did he even have any? He just went to sleep in what he wore that day or without anything on. 

            Ran needed to ask him something. 

            He shuffled out of his room and into the doorway of the bathroom. Yohji was leaned over the sink, humming to himself as he ran a hand along his face. 

            "Damn, but you are one good looking hunk of hot stuff," he murmured between his humming. 

            "You're really boastful." 

            Yohji looked at Ran in the mirror, seeing the younger boy leaning against the doorframe clad only in pants and with ruffled hair. Spinning around and seizing Ran by the shoulders was enough to shock the redhead into submission. He turned back to the mirror, one arm still around Ran's shoulders. 

            "Damn straight I am. I'm telling the truth though." Yohji grinned and smoothed out Ran's hair. "If you put a little effort into your looks in the morning, you'd have a hoard of women after you!" 

            "I'm not interested in women," Ran said coldly. 

            "So it's men that draw your attention?" Yohji raised one eyebrow. He felt Ran tense up under him. 

            "N-No! I'm not interested in anybody." 

            "Sure y'ain't, hot stuff." Yohji playfully punched Ran in the arm and released the boy. "Now, you wanted to say something? You never get up and just lean in the doorway if you want me to shut up. You usually haul me outta the bathroom by my pants." 

            "…You're an expert on loving other people, right?" 

            "Mhm. Doctor Love, that's my middle name!" 

            "Shut up and listen to me. There's…well, if there was someone who liked you, but you didn't think you could like them back…what would you do?" 

            For once, the player was silent. He was the only one besides Ran who knew every bit of Ran's past. So he knew what Ran was saying here. After everything he had suffered, should he be allowed to love? 

            "Ran," he said finally, after some thought, "You shouldn't let your past stand in the way of a good love life." He leaned casually against the counter. "I know you don't want to love any more because you're afraid to loose them again. Right?" 

            Ran said nothing, but the way he averted his gaze gave Yohji his answer. 

            "If there's someone you really like, or who really likes you, you should be nice. There might just be a chance of a great love ahead of you." 

            There was more silence. Finally, Ran turned back to Yohji, his glare fixed in place. 

            "For once, you said something intelligent." He stalked out of the room. Behind him, Yohji smiled. 

            He'd noticed a slight waver in Ran's voice and a shine in his eyes. 

            "You're in love with SOMEone…we'll find out who soon enough." The man turned back to the mirror and examined his own visage again. 

            As for Ran…he had gone back into his room and shut the door. Leaning his back against it, he considered Yohji's words. 

            _Don't let your past stand in the way of a good love life. _

_            Ran snorted. Yohji didn't have any idea what it was like to be him. With a past like his? How could he keep his sister's terrified screaming away whenever he felt a warm touch on any part of his body? _

            "I can't love again," he murmured to himself. "I can't hurt anybody else. I can't drag anybody else into my life." 

            _You're just afraid that YOU'LL get hurt. That's how it always is. You're icy cold and you keep everyone out just so that you can live locked away in your own private world. You're not afraid to hurt anyone else. You're afraid to be hurt yourself. _

_            Ran hissed and walked over to his bed.  He collapsed onto the matted pile of sheets and bashed his head into his pillow again and again. _

            "No! I don't care about myself! I don't want anyone else to suffer! She would want it! She would want it, damn you!" 

            _She wanted you to be happy. But here you are, harassing yourself daily. This is how you honor the memory of a little sister that loved you? _

_            "No! Shut up! Shut up and go away!!" _

            _You can't tell yourself to go away, Ran. You haven't honored her memory since the funerals. You're just a conceited, half-hearted bastard who thinks he's better than everyone else! _

_            "I said shut up!" he screamed, whirling and slamming his head into the wall. It hit with an explosive force, and Ran crumpled instantly. His fists clenched as he reeled from the blow, trying to force away the excruciating pain that was vivid in his skull. Why Yohji didn't come was only because Ran had done this before and told the blonde man to leave. _

            As he lay there, trying to grasp control of reality again, Ran saw a pair of coffee-colored eyes in his vision. He blinked once, twice, and tried to see them again. They had fled from view, but he could still remember the sweetness in them…the sweetness of someone who was willing to help and love. 

            Just like his sister. 

            Her eyes hadn't been brown, though…her eyes had been blue, so blue they were almost indigo. Such a pure, perfectly blue, like shining sapphires on that sweet, innocent face. That beautiful, untouched skin that was covered in blood and – 

            No! 

            "I can't…I can't remember. I can't." He mumbled these words over and over, but slowly, slyly, memories were creeping back to him. The words…the screaming…that terrible, horrible, fear-paralyzed screaming…the blood…the bright lights… 

            The taste of Death. 

            Ran opened his dry mouth in hopes of getting it a little more moist when that taste flooded him again. Blood and bile, a bitter taste flooding his mouth and burning his tongue. Vomit joined it, and it became even crueler. The acidic taste roasted the inside of his mouth as he touched open wounds on his body and saw the blood spray…open wounds on the body lying across his lap and watching the blood trickle across his legs… 

            _"It'll…all be ok…Ran…" _

_            "Yes. Yes. It'll all be ok. Just stay awake. Don't fall asleep. Don't shut your eyes. Please stay awake." _

_            "You'll…you'll be ok without me…" _

_            "No! Don't say that! You'll live and we can go to a different city together. Remember? We were going to make sure Mom and Dad had a good burial. You and I were going to live together forever." _

_            "Everything…will be ok…" _

_            Ran reeled as he tried to force the memories away. No! He couldn't remember! He didn't want to! It hurt so much…too much…to remember. _

            "Go away," he garbled into the air, his mouth thick with a past taste. Then he swallowed and screamed to the heavens: 

            "LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" 

            Silence followed his outburst. The only thing one could hear was Ran's labored breathing and the sound of cars passing by outside. For some time this was all that went on in Ran's near-empty room. 

            His fists were clenched against his head, and his back was bent, like was trying to curl up into nothing. His legs were loose on his bed while his hair was spread wildly around his face and on his pillow. 

            Everything…everything hurt again. It was like being hit with something big, something huge. Something like… 

            _A car? _

_            Ran's eyes opened and rolled with terror. _

            "No, no, don't come back…please…I don't want to remember…" 

            _You have to remember. If you don't your little sister will fade before you die. _

_            "I don't…I can't…I…I…" _

            _So you're saying you don't love her? You're saying that she's not worth remembering? _

_            "No! I love her…I love her…" _

            Something appeared before Ran's eyes, and his back arched. His body writhed in pain as he remembered. His fists clenched and unclenched against his head, pulling out strands of dark red hair. His throat and mouth burned as something flooded them. A deadly pressure formed all around him. When he realized he couldn't breathe, he lost control and never even heard himself screaming. 

            "Ran! Ran!! Wake up, you idiot!" Something hit him hard across the face. He blinked and tried to discern reality from dizzy hallucination. 

            Someone was standing over him, holding him by the shoulders. A few blinks later and he realized it was Yohji, freshly preened and jacket on. 

            "Ran, what's wrong? I've never heard you scream like that before." 

            "I…I…someone's…in my head…" 

            "Someone's in your head?" Yohji repeated skeptically. "Well…we can take you to the doctor this weekend." The blonde man set Ran back down on the bed. "God, you sounded like you were choking and screaming at the same time. Are you sure it was just another nightmare?" 

            Ran turned his head to the side, looking dazedly at the wall. 

            "…yeah…." 

            _I never even fell asleep… _

_            Yohji gave him a piercing look before heading out the door. Moments later Ran heard the telltale click of the front door being locked from the outside. Yohji had gone, and now Ran had the house to himself. Usually he slept at night, but this had changed his whole idea of sleep… _

            With Yohji gone, nobody would come to drag him out of his dark realities created by his memories. 

            _If you fall asleep, maybe you'll have another nightmare. Wouldn't you enjoy that? _

_            "Enjoy?" he whispered. _

            _You know you wanted that little sophomore more than you ever wanted anybody else in the world. _

_            "No…I…" Ran hissed and closed his eyes tightly. "Get…go away…get out of my head!" _

            _I am you, Ran. I can't get out of your mind because I am your mind. And there's nothing you can do to stop me. You have to recognize your selfishness and atone for it before I'll go. _

_            "No!!" Ran yelled. "NO!" _

            _No? You mean you refuse to realize that your little sister died because of you? _

_            "N-no…she…it wasn't my fault…" Ran staggered out of bed, clutching his skull. _

            _It was entirely your fault. You let everything happen. You KNEW it was going to happen, and you just let it go on. _

_            "I did not…!_

            _Bullshit. You knew about it ahead of time. Remember? _

_            "No…," Ran hissed as he opened his door and limped down the hall. _

            _No? You don't remember? Then think. Go deep into your memories and find it. Go on, try it. I dare you. _

_            "No! I don't want to remember! The deeper…" He dropped to his knees and crawled into the kitchen. "…the deeper…I go…the less chance I…have…of…getting out!" _

            _Maybe that would be better for everyone. That little Ken won't have to think about you any more, and Yohji wouldn't have such a burden on his hands. _

_            "Shut up!" Ran almost screamed as he inched across the linoleum floor. He pulled open a drawer and fumbled around inside with one hand. He knew what he was looking for. Where was it?! _

            There! He clutched onto a metal handle and pulled something out. 

            _Atone, Ran! Atone for the sins you've so deeply committed! You'll hear this voice until you do! _

_            "I'll get rid of you," Ran said hoarsely, an insane grin creeping onto his features. "I can make you go away." _

            _Oh really? And just how will you do that? _

_            "Like this." _

            Ran lifted the something he'd pulled from the drawer moments ago. It was a steak knife, long and sharp. The edge was razor sharp, the blade unstained: the perfect weapon for getting rid of unwanted visitors. 

            For long moments, he stared at the weapon. It was so clean…so perfect. Sweetly innocent on the outside, powerful and deadly intentions hidden underneath. 

            _Aw, are you just going to look at it? You coward! You could never use it. You're too scared to use it on anybody, much less yourself! _

_            "Shut up! I'm not afraid of anything!" Ran choked out. Suddenly, he whipped the knife up, set it against his shoulder, dug in, and pulled down. All in less than three seconds. _

            At first he couldn't feel anything, but then there was an amazing pain. Blazing, flaring, scorching, blistering pain. He felt something stick in his throat. It flew out as he emitted a torn scream of pain. His eyes wide, his arm bleeding, Ran watched a crimson river flow across the floor. 

            He looked at the glittering red and silver blade and realized the enormity of what he'd done. For a moment, he felt his stomach twist and turn, but it was forgotten as he threw up. Everything he'd eaten that day along with what he hadn't came out. When it was over, he was doubled over, clutching his stomach with his good arm, still gripping the knife in his hand. 

            Again and again he retched at the smell of the blood, remembering everything he shouldn't have remembered. Familiar presences burned brightly in his mind, forcing him to throw up for every person he saw. Soon there was nothing left in his stomach. Still he threw up. 

            After a short time, Ran managed to stop puking. Blood trickled from his mouth because there was nothing more to come out. Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself back upright and leaned his head back against the cabinets. His eyes were closed. It…hurt. Again. But this time, it was a hurt on the inside. Last time it had been a hurt on the outside… 

            _Just like when you were hit with a car. Isn't that right, you precious little baby? You're nothing more than porcelain; pretty on the outside, but easily broken. Hah. You're already crying after one hit. _

_            Ran realized that yes, he was crying. Tears were streaming down his face out of the pain. _

            "N-no…I…I'm not…..I won't…I…I…" 

            _Give it up. You're so useless that nobody gives a damn about you. You're so pathetic that not even the lowest creature on the earth would look at you twice. Not that you deserve it. _

_            "SHUT UP!!!" Ran screamed. He whirled and struck at nothing with the knife. The fingers on his bleeding left hand twitched occasionally out of shock. He tried to slice at whatever was in the room talking to him, but he didn't hit anything. _

            _Oh, so you want me to die, hm? Then you'll have to kill yourself. Maybe you'll have pity taken on you when you get to Hell. You want to know what they do to people like you down there? _

_            "SHUT UP!" he screamed again, slashing the blade of the knife across his collarbones. He'd been aiming for his throat, but had missed. Still, the pain seared across this new wound. _

            He didn't even have the strength to scream. He pitched forward and collapsed, landing on his side. The knife simply fell from his fingertips. Strands of hair floated in the blood, mingling and vanishing because they were the same color. 


	10. White Hell

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. 

            When Yohji walked in the door alone at 3 the next morning, the first thing he realized was that Ran's door was open. This alone shocked him. Ran never left his door open. The second thing he noticed was that the kitchen light was on, and something red was next to the almost entirely closed door. Slowly, he edged over to the door, and pushed it open. 

            The scent of blood smashed into his face, and his eyes opened wide at the sight before him. Ran was lying on his right side in a pool of blood and vomit, a slash in his arm and a slash on his chest. He was completely unconscious, and next to his hand lay a sharp knife. 

            "Ran!" he just about screamed, tearing into the room and ripping off his jacket. "Ran, what the hell did you do to yourself?!!" He wrapped his jacket around Ran's chest and arm as best he could. "You stupid…what's wrong with you?!" 

            Yohji pulled the unconscious, blood-stained redhead off the floor and held him close to his chest. He didn't mind that blood was starting to stain his pants or his shirt. He could think only of the completely insane idiot he had to get to the hospital, and fast. 

            "God, Ran…why did you do this?" 

~~~ 

            "Mr. Kudou?" 

            Yohji looked up. His head had been buried in his hands for the past hour, which had seemed to drag on for years. 

            "You can come in now. The doctor will talk to you." 

            The blond stood up and followed the nurse out of the ER waiting room and into the back. His face was pale from the anxiety of waiting. 

            Past doors, past hallways, and finally into a single room. Yohji restrained himself from rushing to the side of the bed. On the other side stood a man in a white coat; the doctor who would explain everything to Yohji. Or so he hoped. Slowly he approached the bed, and the nurse left. 

            Lying in the bed was Ran. His arm and chest were bandaged neatly, and there was something hooked up to his arm. Surprisingly, there was something over Ran's mouth and nose, leading to an oxygen tank. What was it called again? Yohji didn't know, but he was confused as to why they would put that on Ran. 

            "Please, sit down." Yohji pulled up a chair and sat down across from the doctor. From the way he slumped, the doctor thought that Yohji was severely stressed. Which he was. 

            "All right. Tell me. Is he ok?" 

            "He should be fine," the doctor began. "Although he was bleeding for some time, and not just externally. There was some severe internal bleeding. It was probably caused by him throwing up so much." 

            "Why is he hooked up to that thing?" Yohji asked, motioning to the oxygen tank. 

            "When you brought him in, he seemed very weak. When we tried to find his pulse, it was almost gone. We think he may have tried to stop himself from breathing." 

            "Oh, God…," Yohji groaned, dropping his forehead into his hand. 

            "Do you know what might have prompted this behavior? Has he acted like this before?" The doctor came over to Yohji's side of the bed. 

            "He's always acted a little off, but he's never tried something like this before. I don't know what could have caused anything…except…" 

            "Except?" said the doctor. 

            "…he was saying that someone was in his head last night." 

            Silence followed this. Yohji blinked back a few tears and swallowed hard, trying to form words. 

            "I…I told him I'd take him to the doctor the next day…to…you know. Have his head examined." 

            "You should do that as soon as he gets out. What was he like? What sort of things has he done?" 

            "…" 

            Yohji considered. Ran had often fallen unconscious after long bouts of memory recovery. Sometimes he would hurt himself. Suicide was sure to have crossed his mind at least once. But what was prominent? 

            "Well…once…a year or so back…he…broke his window. With his hand." Yohji cringed, remembering Ran's screams that had drawn him. "He said later that he was trying to find his sister…he thought she was outside, and he didn't know his window was shut." 

            "His sister. Is she dead?" 

            "…yes." 

            "And do you think that may have prompted this behavior?" 

            "I'm pretty sure. Both his parents and his sister were killed at one time, and then someone tried to kill him." Yohji rubbed his eyes. "He's gonna get mad at me for telling you all this…" 

            "He needs to be spoken to by a counselor." The doctor turned and looked at Yohji reprovingly. "Haven't you tried to talk to him?" 

            "I have!" Yohji shot back, glaring through his fingers and hair. "God, have I tried. But every time I try to talk to him, he just…shoves me away. After he told me his life story, he refused to say anything else." 

            More silence followed this. Finally, the doctor put one hand comfortingly on Yohji's shoulder. 

            "You've done ok in taking care of him if this is the first time. Generally cases like that are in here all the time." 

            "Thanks," Yohji said, not at all reassured. 

            "Anyway, come with me. I can help you arrange a session for him with one of my colleagues down at the University. He works in psychology." 

            Yohji nodded and walked out of the room, shooting one last worried glance at Ran's unconscious form before he left. 

~~~ 

            _White. _

_            That was the first thing Ran thought when he opened his eyes. _

            _Everything…is white. _

_            He turned his head slightly and saw that the walls were white, the floor was white, the ceiling was white. The curtains on the window were white. The blankets on his bed were white. Even the bandages on his arm were white. _

            _Bandages? _

_            Ran blinked slowly, gazing at his left arm in confusion. Bandages? He had been bleeding. Bleeding severely. Terrible pain shooting through his body while someone laughed at him inside his head. _

            Carefully, Ran pulled his upper body off the bed and placed a hand over part of his face. There was nothing there except his mouth and his face. The respiratory mask sat nearby, still attached to the oxygen tank but turned off. 

            _I'm…in a hospital… _

_            He looked up and at the wall. It was an endless, pure white. Embedded in the wall was a door. The door wasn't white; it was brown, made of wood. It made a nice contrast to the white and relaxed Ran's eyes. _

            Then the door opened. He blinked several times and saw…Yohji? No, it couldn't be Yohji. It was a woman, dressed in white. She saw him sitting up and was at his side in a moment, gently pushing him back down. 

            "Please, lay down. Don't strain yourself. I wouldn't want you to get hurt." Ran, surprised by the sudden movement, fell back onto the pillow. The woman, who had long black hair, pulled the sheets back up over his chest. 

            She began checking his pulse, his breathing, the usual hospital stuff. Ran watched her work. He had nothing better to do. After all, there was nobody here besides her, and his head felt so…drugged. Like a huge weight was pressing down on his forehead, keeping him from thinking too far outside himself. 

            Or from going to far into himself. 

            "Well, I'm glad you're awake," the woman said suddenly, standing up to look at him. "The doctors were worried about you, and that friend of yours came into check basically every hour." She smiled a little. 

            "…how…long…have I…?" 

            "How long have you been here?" Ran nodded. His throat burned with something vile. "Two days, I think. Don't worry. Your school was informed that you wouldn't be there yesterday." 

            Ran looked away. At least he hadn't had to deal with Crawford for a good two or so days… 

            "Well, I'll go inform your friend that you're awake. Would you like some water?" Ran nodded. "Ok then. Just relax." 

            As soon as she left, Ran pulled himself up so he could lean against the back of the bed comfortably. He reached up and lightly touched his hair. Feeling the light, fine strands of silky red reassured him that he was alive and well. 

            _I suppose this is nice for the time being… _

_            So why was he here? He couldn't totally remember. He had been bleeding, and it had been his fault. Someone had been talking to him. Who? He knew he'd known the person for a long time. Yohji? Maybe someone from his past. Maybe he had been talking to a ghost. Or a spirit. Maybe a poltergeist… _

            Ah, why did it matter? Right now, if he shut his eyes, everything was black instead of white. Black as pitch, black as night, black as ebony. Black like the hair of…someone familiar. 

           Ran frowned. He'd felt better only a few moments ago. Why were things so fuzzy now? Perhaps they'd drugged him. That was how his head felt… 

            He shook his head. Remember. You are alive, you're ok. Don't succumb to anything they throw at you! Black like the hair of his most hated teacher. 

            Crawford. 

            Ran clenched his fists. Crawford. God, he hated that man so much. Crawford didn't care about anybody other than himself. He always thought he was right, no matter what his students ever did. 

            Except Ran. 

            He smiled slightly at the memory. He had done the impossible. He had taken the problem that bastard had thrown at them and turned the answer right back in his face… 

            _//_

_            "Yesterday I handed out a word problem for extra credit. Anyone here who did it, please vocalize your answer now." _

_            Several students timidly raised their hands, terrified under their teacher's hazel gaze. He sighed irritably and signaled for one of them to begin. She stood and read shakily and answer that had several mathematic mistakes in it. When she finished, she looked at her teacher. _

_            "That was incorrect. Sit down. Next." _

_            She slumped in her seat, hiding her face behind the document. The boy behind her stood up and read the problem, his answers just as evident as hers. Crawford dismissed him with a wave before he could finish and went on to the next. _

_            Ran listened and went over his answer in his head, reading off the paper. His was entirely different than the other answers, which all followed the same pattern. He had found another way, an easier way, a much more advanced and critical way… _

_            "Is that it? Nobody else?" _

_            Ran stood up. Crawford hardly looked at him. Ran began to speak, refusing to sit down when Crawford glared at him and motioned his hand for Ran to stop. _

_            Dead silence filled the classroom when he finished. Crawford was giving Ran a look to kill. Ran was glaring back, still standing, not wavering even slightly under the man's gaze. _

_            "That answer," Crawford finally managed, "was incorrect." _

_            "It wasn't." _

_            The silence became so heavy that it could have cracked. Every head in the room was aimed at Ran, who refused to sit down or be quiet in the face of his teacher. For the first time in Crawford's 10 year history of teaching, no student had ever dared to challenge him directly. _

_            "What does that mean?" _

_            "It means," Ran said as if he were speaking to a small child, "That I got a different answer, and that mine is correct and yours is not." _

_            // _

_            Damn that man! _

            Ran felt a tiny drop of blood form on his hand as his fingernails dug into his skin. Unfurling his fist revealed that he had accidentally cut himself. 

            Oh well…one little cut can't do anything. He hoped. 

            The red stained his pale skin, disrupting the flow of near-white and white around it. It was a nice change. Like the door. He pushed it around with his finger, smearing it across his hand. Another drop seemed to form before sinking back into the cut. Ran sighed and leaned his head back, trying to forget everything. At least he was alone. 

            Some time passed. There was a clock in the room, and Ran looked at it occasionally to check the time. First it was early in the afternoon; then it was a little later; then a little later. After around twenty minutes, the door flew open, and Yohji stumbled in, obviously out of breath. 

            "Ran!" he said in a hoarse voice. He rushed to the bedside and fell into the chair. "Ran! God, what the hell were you thinking?" One arm clamped Ran in a hug of relief. Yohji's breathing was hard, and his heart was beating fast. 

            _He must have really run here fast, Ran thought to himself. _

            Finally, the man released him and held him at arm's length. His eyes held a mixture of happiness, confusion, and rage. 

            "All right. Start talking. Just what in the name of God was going on in your head that night?!" 

            "…does it matter?" 

            "Of course it matters!" Yohji looked as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Something went wrong, and you tried to kill yourself!! What was it?" 

            "…just…I went too deep." 

            "There had to be more than that." That green-eyed glare was fixated directly on Ran's eyes. Ran looked away. 

            "…" 

            "Were you hearing someone again?" Yohji asked. 

            Ran nodded slightly. He didn't feel like talking. The more he talked, the more Yohji would press, the deeper he'd have to go, and it didn't take a genius to figure out where that would end up. 

            "What were they saying?" 

            "…they…it…" Ran glared harshly at the wall, clamping tight to his composure. "It said I had to atone for my sister's death." 

            Yohji said nothing. He knew where Ran stood on his sister's death. 

            "It told me I was a coward. It said it wouldn't leave until I agreed with it and…killed myself." 

            Again there was silence. Then, Yohji slumped back into the chair. 

            "Oh, God, Ran…you're a schizo…" 

            "A what?" 

            "A schizophrenic. Someone who hears voices." 

            "What?" Ran glared at Yohji. "I'm not crazy. It was just my subconscious. I was just thinking to myself!" 

            "Yet you call it an it?" 

            "…that…you implied that!" Ran glared darkly at Yohji. 

            "So? You went along with it. Look, Ran. I talked with the doctor, and we got you an appointment with a psychologist." 

            "What?!" Ran's voice almost cracked. "You signed me up to see a shrink?!" 

            "It won't be that bad," Yohji said, glaring right back at Ran. "You need it. I don't care what you think and I don't care what you say. You're going if I have to drive you to it myself and duct tape you to the seat." 

            Ran matched glares with Yohji, but he knew he didn't have a choice. When that man decided something was settled, it was settled. Ran knew the consequences of fighting with the man over things like that…he'd ended up with both arms broken. 

            Yohji could be surprisingly lethal in battle. 

            "…Look. I'm really glad you're ok. I was scared you were gonna die." The blonde rubbed his forehead and gave Ran a weak smile. "When I first found you, it was just…God. I was shocked. I don't understand you, Ran, even though you've told me everything. Just remember that…you shouldn't die. You've got a life ahead of you. I'm sure you can work things out." 

            Ran's glare softened. Yohji cared for him like the older brother he'd never had and never wanted, but secretly desired. This man had taken on the father figure in his late teen years, which was why Ran was willing to tell him everything about his past. 

            "…Well, the doctor said you can walk out of the hospital tonight, if you're up to it. The appointment is scheduled for tomorrow. You think you can do it?" 

            Ran nodded. The clock read 3:15; that meant he might be out of here in less than two hours. 

            "Great. I'll be back around 5:30 to pick you up. They need to run a few more checks to make sure you're ok, and then you're out." One more shaky smile and Yohji left, closing the door quietly. Ran watched after him, completely convinced that he'd seen a trace of tears in the older man's eyes. 

~~~ 

            Yohji's driving had never been the best, but Ran knew he was being careful just for Ran's sake. Sunglasses were perched delicately on the bridge of his nose to block out the sun. His hair looked unruffled by the wind, as it had earlier, when he'd come in to visit Ran. 

            Now they were heading home in Yohji's corvette. The sleek red vehicle cruised stealthily through the streets, bathed in the glow of the setting sun. Neither man spoke for a long time, feeling the wind whip through their hair because the windows were rolled down. 

            At last Yohji spoke. 

            "Are you mad at me?" 

            "What would I be mad for?" Ran glared out the front window. 

            "For getting you that appointment tomorrow." 

            "…" His gaze dropped down a little. "…not really." 

            "That's a surprise." Yohji grinned and glanced at Ran for less than a second. "I thought you'd be berating me for ever considering that you'd need to go." 

            "I don't think I need to go," Ran said quietly. "I'm just not mad at you for signing me up." 

            "Oh." Yohji's grin faded as they kept moving. In a few moments they would be at the building. "…still. I thought you would have been angry with me." 

            "Hn." 

            They pulled into the building's parking lot and got out. As Yohji locked the doors, he said, "Oh, by the way. I stopped by the school yesterday and picked up the homework you missed. One of your teachers gave me a list that seemed pretty long. I think he was the one you were telling me about at the end of last quarter?" 

            Ran bristled and slammed the door a little hard. 

            "Yeah. Must have been him." 

            The two of them walked in silence up the stairs to their four-room-one-hallway flat. Upon getting inside, Yohji indicated to Ran where he'd set the list of homework: on Ran's desk. 

            Slowly, Ran picked through the pile. On top was his English homework: notes from Ken and vague ideas for the start of a story as well as mentions from his teacher as to what they had done and would be doing. A single note from his PE teacher was attached to a thick stack of rules, consequently saying that they would be playing frisbee for another two or so days and then the test. 

            When he lifted off the PE rules he saw what he'd been dreading. A single page loaded with instructions, page numbers, and problems for him to do out of his calculus textbook. His eyes narrowed as he examined the fifty-so problems he had assigned for each day he had been gone. Finally, he turned over the sheet and saw a note, hand-written in pencil so lightly that only Ran could read it. 

            _You will not be given an extension on the homework just because you were gone. This is the same for any other student in the school. _

_            Under that, written so lightly that Ran had trouble reading it, were the words: _

            _I do not believe that you attempted suicide for any reason at all. _

_            His fist clenched tightly, almost tearing holes in the paper. He had tried to kill himself to silence that voice in his head and only Yohji believed him. Had Yohji told the school the real reason for his absence?! _

            He would have to ask later. For now, Ran pulled his textbook out of his backpack and began doing his homework. It would be a long, late night full of complicated problems, something he was used to and continued to hate. 

            "Damn you, Crawford," he hissed. "Damn you to Hell and back." 


	11. Ask and I Won't Tell

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. 

            _Floor 3, Room 303, Dr. Suzuhara _

_            Appt. Time: __1:00 P.M._

_            Ran glared at the card as he stood in front of a large oak door reading 303 in gold numbers near the top. Yohji had driven him down here and dropped him off at the front. Ran had proceeded to go inside, take the elevator upstairs, and walk down stuffy, yellow-lit hallways until he reached this door. _

            Hesitantly, he placed his hand on the knob, turned, and opened. 

            The room inside looked just like the hallways, except this one had chairs, magazines, and a reception desk. A single woman sat behind the desk. She had a pink shirt on and auburn hair swept up into a bun. She smiled at Ran when he approached the desk. 

            "Good afternoon." 

            "I'm here for an appointment." 

            "Do you have a card?" 

            Ran handed the woman the card with his name and date on it. She looked it over, then smiled and nodded. 

            "Please sit down. The doctor will see you shortly." 

            _That makes it sound like I'm sick and he's going to give me a shot or something…, Ran thought darkly as he sat down in a rickety chair and picked through the magazines. Some were five years old; some were two; one was thirty. He groaned internally and looked through the most recent one he could find. _

            He'd expected a long, boring wait, but before he could even start reading a semi-interesting article, the door next to the reception desk opened and a cheery young woman came out. 

            "Fujimiya, Ran?" 

            "Hn." 

            "The professor is ready to see you now." She waiting patiently for Ran to come in. 

            _Professor? _

_            He stood up and followed her through the door. It led into one or two small hallways, all looking the same, all carpeted with the same dry stuff, all lit with the same yellow lights. The woman stopped at the end of the main hallway, where there was a new door. _

            "Please go through. Dr. Suzuhara will be happy to see you." She gave him another smile and was suddenly gone. 

            Ran blinked before turning to the door. His fingers touched the silvery material, slightly confused as to how this seemed so much cooler feeling than all the other door handles. 

            _I have to go through…I can't leave now. I'm in too deep. _

_            Slowly, carefully, he turned the knob and pushed open the door. _

            Inside the room was a total shock. It was far bigger than the reception room. The walls looked like they were made of fine wood, not plaster, and they had framed pictures hanging here and there. One wall was made up entirely of windows. It was a nice change from the gauzy yellow lights, to see that huge, endless blue sky with nothing to interrupt it except a cloud or two. A few living plants – actually still alive – stood in corners or next to the fancy wooden desk that had diplomas and certificates hanging over it. Even the carpet had changed and was nicer. 

            Ran shut the door behind him and glanced around nervously. He didn't know if this was even the right place. It had to be; there was no other room, no other doors. 

            "So you're Ran?" 

            Ran just about jumped out of his skin when he heard the voice coming from the desk. He looked at the man sitting behind it: a tall man with dark brown hair combed back, a neatly trimmed beard, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. His outfit was a casual suit and tie. He was smiling, too; Ran took this as a good sign. 

            "…yes." 

            "Then please, have a seat on the couch." The man signaled to a couch across the room from his desk. It looked like one of those usual psychiatric couches. But it did look comfortable. So he sat down and crossed his arms, refusing to look relaxed. 

            "…" 

            "I hear that the reason you were brought here was because something happened to you earlier in the week." The man stood up and walked over to the couch, sat down in a chair next to it, and watched Ran calmly. "My friend who works down at the hospital said that you were believed to be hearing voices?" 

            "I'm not crazy." 

            "Hearing voices doesn't mean you're insane," Suzuhara said with a raised eyebrow. "I have plenty of patients who hear voices but are perfectly normal people. It's just an assumption of the populace that having voices in your head makes you insane." 

            "…" Ran refused to make eye contact with the doctor. 

           "Anyway, Ran, I want you to lie back on the couch." Ran glared but complied, feeling stupid. "From what I was told, you don't like speaking to people about your history. This may be the cause of your problems…" 

            "What, because I hate to talk?" Ran said a little too threateningly. 

            "No, your history. You don't tell anybody about it and keep it to yourself. It festers and boils deep inside your mind until it erupts and takes you down with it." 

            Ran clenched his hand around his wounded arm. Pain blazed through the cut, but he refused to cry out or even show his pain. Still, a single drop of sweat crawled down his face. 

            "To get to the roots of this problem, I need you to tell me what happened to you." The man looked Ran straight in the eyes. "You have to tell me why your family is no longer living." 

            The readhead jerked in pain; the professor knew he had struck home, even with such a kind-sounding statement. He watched as Ran's eyes shut tight and his hands tightened around his arms. 

            "…I…I don't…" 

            "Want to? Well, you certainly don't have to. This may not be a voluntary thing, coming here, but I'm not going to force you to say anything." 

            "…" Ran gave him a dark look through narrow eyes. "…really…" 

            "Honestly," the man responded. 

           For some time there was silence. Finally, Ran let his head drop to the side, facing Suzuhara, but his eyes were closed. 

            "…I hate talking about it because I still blame myself…but…this all stays here, right?" 

            "Every bit. Nobody will ever know you came." 

            "…do you write it down or what?" 

            "I write down things I find important or interesting about what you tell me," said the doctor, tapping a pen against a pad of paper, "and then I type it up on the computer in my log." 

            "Can anybody access those?" 

            "I keep them saved in a password protected folder, and even to get into my computer, you have to know my screen name and code word." 

            "…I suppose that's standard issue protection." 

            "I don't want anybody getting into my patient's files." The doctor looked expectantly at Ran. "Now. Are you going to tell me about your life, or shall we start with the present?" 

            "…what?" 

            "You don't have to tell me about your life right now, but you would be putting it off. I expect you to tell me one day. Instead of your history, you could tell me about more recent troubles that might have added to your current condition." 

            Ran pondered, his blood starting to calm down from boiling before. So he had a choice. Tell about now, hm? There couldn't be any harm in telling this man how much he hated his calculus teacher. 

            "All right." 

            "Good." The pen clicked once, and the doctor set the tip on the paper. "Tell me about your current troubles. Ones that are dominant in your life." 

            "My math teacher. More specifically, calculus." Ran's eyes narrowed as he glared at the wall. "Crawford." 

            "Crawford?" said Suzuhara unexpectedly. "You mean, Bradley Crawford?" 

            "…yeah, why?" Aya glanced suspiciously at the man, who was laughing quietly. 

            "I know him. He was one of my top students in a psychiatry class I taught some years ago, back when he was in college." The man smiled. 

            _Crawford took psychiatry? I thought he taught math… _

_            "He majored in mathematics, though…I think he wasn't happy with the way I taught." _

            "Oh," Ran muttered offhandedly, looking back at the wall. Then, louder: "He's a prick." 

            At this the doctor laughed out loud. Ran didn't laugh or look at him, instead wondering why the doctor was amused. 

            "That's true," he suddenly pointed out, still grinning at Ran. "He had a backbone stiffer than steel. He never broke any rules and always pointed out the mistakes of others that I had missed. His theories were rather boring, though, and always came to one certain, direct point…which is not what psychiatry is all about." 

            "So what is it about?" 

            "That's not important. Keep telling me why you hate him so much. Although it's not impossible to see why, I think there's something more behind your hatred…?" 

            "True," Ran said. "Last quarter, he handed out a project for extra credit. Everyone got it wrong." 

            "Even you?" 

            "No, not me. But he did." 

            The doctor looked unbelievingly at Ran. 

            "Explain this further." 

            Ran sighed internally. 

            "He had misread the problem." 

            "It was a word problem?" 

            "One of the few. I got an entirely different answer through a different method. When he found out I was right…" Ran trailed off, leaving the doctor to figure it out for himself. 

            "He got enraged," mused Suzuhara. "He must have threatened to kill you or something." 

            "It was implied." 

            "I remember when I handed back his term paper with a lower score than his usual perfect. He was resolute in saying that he was right and I was wrong, and went over every detail again. I pointed out that he was being childish by insisting this, and pointed out his single mistake." The man grinned into space. "Oh, I got hell for that…" 

            Ran couldn't help but glance over. "Did he try to kill you?" 

            "No, but when some other student made fun of him for being wrong, he threatened furiously. I think that's why he didn't really have many friends. Well, maybe it was because he thought he was superior." 

            _Probably the latter, Ran thought. _

            "Anyway. Keep telling me about what happened; I'm dragging you off track." 

            "Hn…he kept me after class that day to find out what I had done. His expression was priceless when he found his mistake, but it started getting scary when he found out how I'd gotten my answer…" Ran shivered unconsciously at the memory. 

            "What did he do?" 

            Ran glared and growled low in his throat. This was his way of warning people that they were going too deep; if they didn't get the hint, he told them outright. If they kept going, then he got violent. 

            "Ah…ok, ok. So, has anything else been happening to you?" 

            "…PE has been a little difficult…" 

            "How so?" 

            "…I…got in a fight with one boy after I beat two of his track records…" Ran touched the place where Ikari had punched him in the face. 

            "Was that the only reason he got mad at you? What pressured you into the fight?" 

            "He knew too much." Ran gave the doctor a glare, daring him to ask what Ikari knew too much of. 

            "I see." Suzuhara wrote something down on the paper. "Was that all?" Ran nodded. "Ok. Anything else?" 

            The last thing that came to mind was Ken. Ran glowered at the wall, remembering the sudden urges he'd had after he'd landed on the younger boy. Right now those urges seemed stupid and unpredictable, and he was glad he hadn't done anything. Then other thoughts came up: the partnership in English, Ken yelling at him, the touch that brought back too many memories… 

            "Ran?" 

            "…I was thinking." 

            "Oh. All right. Tell me when you decided something." 

            "…" 

            Ran was reluctant to tell Yohji, his most trusted counterpart, about his love life. Like hell he was going to tell a complete stranger he'd just met about it. Ken would have to stay stuffed firmly back in his mind. 

            It didn't mean he couldn't be vague, though… 

            "There's someone who has…caught my attention." Ran gave the doctor a superior look. "…I'm not usually interested in anybody, and they're…plaguing me." 

            "A crush, hm?" the doctor asked, interested. 

            "I'm not a child anymore. I don't get crushes," Ran responded defensively. 

            "Ok, ok, it's a mild attraction. So they're bothering you? You don't want to like them, but they keep on appearing in your thoughts?" 

            Ran nodded. That had been grazing the edge of Ran's mental barriers. If the man went any further, Ran would have to push him away again. 

            "All right. This must be irritating you. Tell me what kinds of things they remind you of." 

            Ran glowered, but didn't growl. 

            "…when…I do my work. Or go outside." 

            "Did something happen with this person during a class?" 

            "…sort of." 

            "Such as?" Suzuhara glanced at Ran. "Are you partners with them on a project? Have they been sending you notes?" 

            "The former." 

            "Ok…" Again he wrote something on the paper. Ran craned his neck a little to see what was being written, but the paper was tilted too much. Grumbling and cursing Yohji internally, Ran settled back down. He'd hardly just gotten here and was already wishing he could leave. 

            "…" 

            "Tell me more about something that happened. An encounter in the halls. A meeting anywhere. What happened?" 

            "…why does it matter so much?" 

            "Sometimes, meetings can affect how you feel for someone. If they steal something from you, you might hate them openly but like them on the inside." 

            Ran almost rolled his eyes. He'd heard these things before. Who did this guy think he was? Some kind of famous doctor? He wasn't saying Ran hadn't heard before. And this stuff he'd heard from other kids. 

            "I've seen him at lunch and in the halls." 

            "…is that it?" 

            "Yes," Ran said a little too fast. The doctor raised an eyebrow and wrote something more down. A tiny, almost silent curse escaped Ran's mouth. 

            "Well, I think you've reached your limits for today." Suzuhara looked at Ran, pen and paper still. "Judging from the way you just swore, you're angry with yourself, and probably with me. You can go home now." 

            Ran blinked. 

            "But…I just got here." 

            "Do you want to talk some more?" 

            "…not really, no." 

            "Ok then. You're free to go. Schedule another appointment with the receptionist. If you need to use the phone, feel free to do so." 

            The doctor smiled as Ran stood up and walked warily to the door. He walked out into the reception area and let his body make plans for another session while his mind wandered elsewhere. He had to come back and talk again. So it would be for some time until he finally spilled the story of his family's murder, his deepest fears, his feelings for Ken (although he had few, he reminded himself), and the voices he heard. 

            As his hand touched the phone to call Yohji, something inside him stirred. 

            _You won't talk. You're too scared to talk. _

_            He jerked. _

            _Hah! You're even afraid of yourself. _

            Ran picked up the phone, desperately trying to ignore that mocking voice in his head. Shaking fingers dialed the number. 

            Ringing. Ringing. 

            "House of pizza, may I take your order?" 

            "Yohji?" 

            "Ran?" The voice on the other end sounded surprised. "Hey, chibi. What's up? You done already?" 

            "Y-yeah…can you come get me?" 

            "Sure. I need to get you your own car someday…you ok?" 

           "Yes. Yes. I'm fine." Ran scowled. Why was he acting like something was wrong? Nothing was wrong. He was fine. He was fine. 

            _Sure you are, you stupid bastard. _

_            "Whatever…I'm close by, so just go to the place where I dropped you off." _

            Click. 

            Ran put the phone back on the receiver and slowly walked out of the office. As soon as the door was closed, he leaned against it, clenched fists against his head. 

            "Ignore it," he whispered to himself. "Just ignore it." 

            _You can't ignore yourself. Doing that would kill you. Remember? You tried to ignore your pain, and look where it ended up. _

_            "No!" he mumbled, stepping away from the door and staggering down the hall. "I…I didn't…I won't ignore…myself…you…just…shut…go away!..." _

            _Now why would I do that? You need to be reminded daily of what an ass you are. Not only do you display it every second you're alive, you don't realize it, and here you are! _

            Ran growled and crashed into the closed metal doors of the elevator. He kept one fist against his head while pressing the elevator buttons, trying to shut out the voice and be strong. 

            _Hah! You can't shut me out. I am you. If you shut yourself out you'd go unconscious! See how stupid you are... _

_            The voice prattled on, and Ran ignored it. Or tried to, anyway. Occasional comments stole through and stung him viciously. Still, he tried to ignore these; if he let them get to him, he'd be weak. Weak like he was before. _

            _Back when you had daddy to take care of all your problems, hm?   
            "If you wouldn't mind staying quiet for a little while," he snarled, "I need to get home to solitude. Then you can berate me all you want." _

            _Tch. Typical attitude. You expect me to listen to you? _

_            Ran didn't answer. He used the wall as a support to get out of the building, away from the reflective white walls and ugly yellow lights, from the stale air and false happiness. _

            Finally he staggered into the sunshine and fresh air. He took a deep breath, savoring the freedom he'd ignored for so long, and suddenly things didn't seem so bad. The sun was bright, the sky was blue, the leaves on the trees were green… Even the air seemed fresher than usual. The voice in his head had vanished to a droning sound, something he could easily ignore. Like a teacher. 

            A tiny smirk tugged at his lips, but he kept it down. Yohji's car pulled into the parking lot. 

            "Oi, chibi. You look better. Did it help you?" 

            "What are you talking about?" Ran snapped irritably. "Stop calling me chibi." 

            "Whatever, chibi. I'm talking about the session." Yohji raised an eyebrow. "You didn't skip, did you?" 

            "No." 

            "Good! Hop on in, then, I'll get you some lunch." 

            "I had lunch an hour ago," Ran muttered as he slid into the passenger seat next to Yohji. 

            "More lunch!" He had barely buckled the seat belt when Yohji took off at speeds unheard of in parking lots. 

            "Hn…" 

            Yohji seemed happy, and Ran wasn't too discontented. Sure, his memories were hanging on the back of his mind like icicles (slowly dripping into your face if you don't move), but who had time to think about that now? The world seemed beautiful. There was no time for fighting. 

            "Fast food or restraunt?" 

            "Huh?" 

            "Which do you want to go to?" Yohji glanced at Ran. 

            "Um…you pick." 

            "Hai. You seem preoccupied." 

            "…just thinking." 

            Yohji nodded wisely and pulled into a fast food place. Both boys got out and headed inside. Ran got a table for two next to the window while Yohji went up to order. 

            The redhead slumped in his head and glanced over at Yohji, who was leaning across the counter, talking to a blushing girl at the cash register. 

            _The usual methods of free food, no doubt. I wonder just how many of the girls he's slept with work here. _

_            The girl blushed an even darker shade of red at something Yohji murmured into her ear. _

            _Promises never last… _

_            As if by magic, the girl brought enough food for a feast and Yohji paid… 'discount' price for it. He smiled and said something more to the blushing waitress before strolling casually over to the table. _

            "Must you always be so…" Ran wrinkled his nose as he sought out the right word. "…straightforward?" 

            "What's wrong with that? I have free food and a date for Friday with her." The man winked and leaned on one elbow. "If you tried a little harder, you'd have a – " 

            "Hoard of women after me. You said that two days ago." 

            Yohji was silent for a moment, then smiled lazily, as if he was the Cheshire cat. Ran stopped reaching for the nearby fries. That smile always meant something bad was about to happen. 

            "Yeah…and I also asked if it was men that caught your attention." 

            Ran didn't feel himself blush but was sure he did. 

            "N-nani?! No! I'm not interested in anybody!" He got up and stalked over to the counter where they kept the ketchup and such. Yohji's snickering followed him the whole way. 

            "Your redness says otherwise," the blonde commented when Ran sat down. Ran growled and glowered, smashing a fry into the ketchup. 

            "Shut up." 

            "Fine, be touchy." Yohji took a drink from the giant sized cup he had in his hand. "So how was the session?" 

            "Hn." Ran swallowed and reached for another stringy, grease-soaked fry. "It was…damnit, Yohji. Why did you sign me up?" 

            "You need it, chibi. There's no way in hell I am going to let you hurt yourself like that again." A jade green glare flew across the table and locked with Ran's eyes. "You are going to those sessions and finding out what is wrong with your head. Got it?" 

            Ran tried to match glares with Yohji, but the man was giving him the same look he'd given him five months ago, when the lanky blonde had pinned him to the floor and shattered both of Ran's arms. 

            "…damnit…" He averted his own violet gaze to the fries on the table. 

            "Look, Ran. If he calls and says you didn't show up…geeze, kid. I don't want you to get hurt again." 

            Ran didn't say anything else. The voice was quiet now, but who knew when it would come back? The usual protective wall around his memories was back up and alert. So maybe the voice was a piece of his memories…? 

            "Ran." 

            "Hn." 

            "You are going to school tomorrow, right?" 

            Ran shot Yohji a look. The man glanced at the bandages on Ran's arm and chest, both slightly visible via sleeve and collar. Ran narrowed his eyes. 

            "Let them talk." 

            "Whatever you say." 

            Ran thought of the words Crawford had written on the back of his calculus homework and gave Yohji an even darker glare. 

            "…what? What did I do?" 

            "Did you tell the school why I was gone?" 

            "Well…I said you were in the hospital…and…they asked why. I said you cut yourse…" Yohji trailed off as Ran slowly leaned across the table. 

            "Why did you say that?" 

            "They needed a reason!" the blonde said nervously, trying to wave Ran away. "I was panicked! I just said you tried to hurt yourself, but you were alive!" 

            "Did you mention suicide?" 

            "No…" 

            "…are you done eating?" 

            "Hell no!" Yohji seemed to have suddenly forgotten all past conversation. He smiled and jammed an entire burger in his mouth. Ran leaned back, disgusted. 

            _So how did he find out…? _


	12. If Flesh could Crawl

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. 

            _I shouldn't have come. _

_            The halls of the school weren't silent, but wherever Fujimiya Ran walked, a path cleared and eyes stared straight at his bandages. By this time, 7:55 Monday morning, the entire student body knew what he had done. By 8:00 even the losers would know. _

            He tried to ignore the looks he was getting and fiddled with his locker. He wasn't up for a fight today, so he slowly twisted the dial until it opened. 

            _…thank you. _

_            Books away, papers out. He almost dropped his calculus book, knowing that he had to go to __that class next and see __that teacher next. _

            Crawford was not something you wanted to see first thing on a Monday morning. Especially since the stupid bastard seemed to have precognition. Damn! He always seemed to know what kids were lying. 

            Ran took a deep breath, shut his locker, and headed down the hall. He felt a tiny drop of sweat slide down the side of his face. 

            _Hell! I'm not scared! ………I hope… _

_            He shook his head slightly and shoved right by a group of soccer players, completely failing to notice that one was his English partner. The looks they were giving him were quite different than the brunette's. _

            There. The door. _That door. The only door without a cluster of kids around it. In fact, there was a three-foot radius of clear space around it. Crawford insisted on this… he hated kids. _

            Ran slowly approached the open door and looked inside. There were three other kids in there and Crawford. The hazel gaze moved to the door to see who had just come in, and Ran saw those eyes narrow…but he saw nothing more, because the man's face was hidden by a few sheets of paper. 

            Ran growled slightly and stepped inside. The temperature dropped several degrees, and Ran shivered, wondering if he should have brought a sweater to school today. Maybe the orange one…? 

            Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would wear it. 

            Wait. It was in his locker. He could wear it today. 

            Sitting down, Ran looked at the clock. It ticked slowly, directly on time, never early, never late. Just like Crawford. The time when Ran had come in after school, he had arrived a few minutes early, only to find that _Crawford wasn't there. The clock read __2:27__. Crawford told him to be here by __2:30__. What was wrong in being early? _

_            Ran slumped against a desk to wait, the word problem clutched tightly in his hand. At exactly __2:30 PM__, the door in the back of the classroom opened, and out stepped Crawford. He looked calm and collected as usual, but upon seeing Ran his facial expression turned to a sneer. _

_            The man sat down at his desk. _

_            "Set out your homework from last night," Crawford instructed not a moment after the bell rang. Every student pulled their homework from their notebook and held it, checking over for mistakes they missed or that their names were indeed on the papers. Then they passed up the papers to the front of the row, where Crawford took them and set them on his desk. _

            Ran could feel the gazes directed at him from all the other students. More specifically, the gazes were on his chest and arm. People were wondering what his problem was. Ran, the man who had outwitted the most amazing teacher in the school! 

            What was wrong with him? 

            "I want you to _tell me, Ran," Crawford said, glowering at the only student in his room, "How you got the correct answer and I got the wrong one." _

_            "Be happy to," Ran snapped, standing in front of the desk and slamming his answer down in front of the black-haired man. Crawford read the problem as Ran verbalized it. _

_            The further Ran got in his answer, the smaller Crawford's pupils got; when Ran came to the part that Crawford had gotten incorrect, the man was staring at the paper in total disbelief. Ran smirked and finished off his answer. _

_            "Well? How did I do?" _

_            "Today's work will be from chapter four, section five. Open your books to page 275. Azuki, begin reading." _

            A girl with dark hair blinked in surprise, then looked down at her book and read the paragraphs in a shaky voice. "The sin and cosine system works with triangles. To use this…" 

            _"Aren't you going to answer me?" _

_            "You…this…" Crawford could hardly make out coherent words. A student had proved him wrong…proved it! This wasn't possible! _

_            Ran grinned as Crawford looked up. The grin faded when he didn't see shock or awe, but instead pure rage. He took a step back when he teacher stood up. _

_            "…using the triangles and angles will help you solve the sin and cosine." _

            "To begin this section," Crawford said dryly, "You'll need a protractor. Get yours out right now. If you don't have one, borrow one. Otherwise, tough." 

            _"Nobody ever proves me wrong." _

_            "I just did." _

_            Ran's hands moved into his backpack and pulled out the battered plastic. His eyes were glazed as memories somehow seeped through his flawless wall. _

            _Ran tried to walk away, but suddenly Crawford grabbed his arm. He hissed and pulled only to meet a more forceful pull in return, dragging him around the side of the desk. _

_            "Follow the instructions on the next page…" _

            _"Nobody proves that I'm wrong!" _

_            "They begin with the sin of the first triangle." _

            "Sir…you haven't showed us how to do this ye – " 

            "I'm getting to that. Now shut up." 

            _If he had let himself scream, he might have done something before Crawford's grip left his arm and latched onto his face. If he had understood the enormity of Crawford's rage, he might have never said anything. _

_            "To do this, start by measuring…" _

            _"Damn you!" hissed the gold-eyed man shortly before he slammed Ran's head into the chalkboard as hard as he could. _

_            "Write down the distances when you get them." _

            _It was like a firework had gone off inside his skull; he felt nothing but immense pain. His eyes were wide as Crawford repeated his performance again and again, finally dropping Ran's limp, dazed figure on the ground. _

_            "To start the formula…" _

            _"You stupid little bastard!"_

_            "…look below the set of instructions for an equation…" _

            _"I'll kill you for this!" _

_            "…and apply the measurements into that…" _

            _"I'll kill you if you tell anyone about this." _

_            "…so the formula will be complete." _

            _"Got it?" _

_            The man gave Ran a dark glare. Then he turned, ripped up Ran's answer, and flung it in the garbage can. Ran continued to sit against the wall, blood running down his back from the tear in his head. Black and red spots danced in his eyes, blinding him whenever he blinked. _

_            As if to drive his point home, Crawford shoved Ran's discarded backpack into the boy's chest and left. He turned out the lights as he went, and then he locked the door. _

_            "I'll kill you." _

_            Almost casually, Ran slumped forward on his desk, his eyes wide and fuzzy. Crawford noticed the movement but ignored it. _

            The pencil rolled from Ran's fingers and clattered to the floor, drawing slight attention from the other students. Crawford simply kept on talking. 

            _"I'll kill you…" _

~~~ __

            At some point, Ran had woken up from his memories and gone back to taking notes. He could copy the rest over later. The book did, after all, hold all the answers. Crawford wasn't the only encyclopedia in the school. 

            The bell rang at the expected time, sending every girl and boy scuttling out the door with half-finished papers in hand. Crawford grimaced as the children ran out the door, giggling and laughing as soon as they exited the premises of the hated calculus room. It was lunch time, socialization time! They could talk and scream and yell and chatter and nobody would care. 

           Ran was the only student in the room after the others had left. He was, as usual, taking his time in putting things away. He was taking longer today because the memories from hardly a month ago were still playing viciously in his head. The redhead hardly paid attention when a bird ran into the only window in the classroom. 

            Although he did notice when Crawford walked up to his desk and stood over him. 

            "So where were you?" 

            "…the hospital." 

            "Why?" 

            Ran hissed slowly, the thin breath sliding around his clenched teeth. He refused to look up at his teacher. His hands slowly put the last of the papers into a folder. 

            "I asked you a question. I expect an answer." 

            "Ask someone else," snapped Ran. 

            "Like who? The principal? He already told me something. However…" Crawford glowered down at Ran, who still would not look up. "…I don't believe that you would try to kill yourself." 

            Ran tensed. 

            "…what do you know about me?" 

            "As much as I want to know." 

            Ran's head snapped up. Instantly he found himself caught in his teacher's icy glare. 

            "What the hell does that mean?" 

            "I can get any information on you that I want." Crawford's eyes narrowed. "Now tell me why you were at the hospital." 

            Ran pulled back a little. This was starting to scare him, and badly. 

            "…I…" 

            Without warning, Crawford seized Ran's collar and jerked it down. Ran snarled, leaping out of his seat and staggering back. 

            "I suppose something happened that caused those bandages. Or are they just for decoration?" 

            Ran could hardly believe what he was hearing. Was Crawford out of his mind?! This man was…was interrogating him! 

            And doing a damn good job of it, too. 

            "G…what the hell do you want with me?" 

            "I want you to die." 

            _No surprise there. _

_            "And? What else?" he snapped, sweat trickling down his face. _

            "…It's none of your business." 

            Ran was dearly tempted to snort and say, "that's because you don't know why", but he knew better than to test Crawford's rage, especially after he'd done it once before. Who knew what the man was hiding in that desk? 

            "...let me go to lunch." 

            "As you wish." Crawford turned and walked back to his desk. 

            It was Ran's greatest desire to lunge at that man, wrap an arm around his neck, and pull back as hard as he could, but he could never try that. He'd seen Crawford hit a student before. Just once, when he was a freshman, his first year here; he'd been passing by the room when Crawford smacked the girl for talking back to him. She had literally flown across the room and crashed into a desk. The next day, she was wearing a brace and had quit calculus. 

            Ran did not want to test Crawford's strength at a time like this. 

            He picked up his stuff and stalked out of the room, feeling the ever-present gaze on his back. 

            Rage seethed and boiled in his veins. He hardly looked where he was going as he passed through the near-empty halls back to his locker. When he got there, he jammed his book and folder inside, swearing both internally and externally. He pulled out a fistful of coins and his orange sweater. 

            "Damn bastard…thinks he rules the world…I'll kill you, he says…I'll kill HIM…" Ran stalked back down the hall after slamming the metal contraption shut as hard as he could. "Fuck him…I'll just quit…Yohji quit his classes, didn't he?...wait, he has a 2.12 GPA…" 

            Ran was too caught up in his inner monologue to notice the door he passed by until it opened and someone stumbled out. They crashed into him. He looked down and saw dark brown hair, a t-shirt with a soccer ball sewn into it… 

            It was Ken! 

           Then Ran took a closer look. Ken's face was red and streaked with tears, his hair ruffled, and his clothes disheveled. The boy's legs also seemed weak and shaky as he tried to move away from Ran and back down the hall. 

            "Ken?" he asked, confused. The boy's head whipped up to look at him, then fell back down. A single hand reached up and crushed against his face. 

            "I-I'm fine!" the brunette said a little too quickly. "I…I just…I was only…" 

            Ran's hand brushed against the bare skin on Ken's arm. It was burning hot. 

            "I was…I needed help on the…the homework. Honestly, n-nothing's wrong…" 

            "Your face says otherwise." 

            Ken jerked in surprise. Ran suspected that Ken hadn't known exactly who was talking to him until the boy heard his voice. Swiftly the younger man pulled away, straightening his hair and clothes. His eyes were glistening with hidden tears. 

            _God, he's just like me… _

_            "Oh…oh, I-I'm sorry…I d-didn't mean to…mean to…" _

            Suddenly, Ken started to crumble. His legs gave way and he almost crashed to the floor. He would have made it had Ran not caught him and sank to his knees along with the exhausted boy. 

            "I…I…I'm sorry…I…" Ken shook uncontrollably. 

            _Is he cold? Ran pulled his sweater from his shoulder and draped it over Ken's own. The boy clutched it as close as he could and pushed the left sleeve over his mouth. Ran watched as Ken inhaled deeply, then moved the sleeve and exhaled. _

            Then he seemed to realize who it was that had given him the sweater. His face went a deep shade of red, and he looked away quickly. 

            "Oh! God, I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause trouble for you." 

            "It wasn't a problem." Ran glanced at the door. "What happened in there?" 

            Ken jerked and stared ahead. Ran looked back at him. This was exactly how _he acted when someone asked about his past. _

            "N-nothing. Nothing at all. No, nothing." 

            Ran glanced at the nameplate beside the door. 

            _German II _

_            Mr. Schuldig _

_            "…I think something happened besides nothing…what were…" He caught himself in time. If he didn't want people asking about his past, he shouldn't ask about others'. _

            "…please…don't…don't ask." 

            "Ok." Ran stood up. "So are you ok?" 

            "I'm…" Ken weakly got to his feet, the sweater still hanging around his shoulders. "…I'm fine." He looked to the side of Ran and blushed, a tiny smile forming on his face. "…thank you." 

            Ran hesitated. The soccer player's hair was hanging loosely in his eyes, and he still seemed ruffled, although it was a happy ruffled look. He was blushing, and with the sweater like that, he looked really cute… 

            _…oh…no…I'm…_

_            "…Ah!" Ken suddenly reached out, holding Ran's sweater. "Here. Th…thank you for letting me borrow it." _

            Ran wanted to yell out at this, but didn't. He'd wanted to let Ken wear it forever…damn, did that boy look adorable… 

            He felt a blush cross his own face as he took the orange mass back. For one brief moment, their hands touched. 

            Ran looked at his orange sweater, then back up at Ken, who had picked up his books and was heading off to lunch, casting occasional glances back at Ran. It was as if he wanted the redhead to follow him, to talk to him, to sit with him at lunch… 

            The ultimate status symbol. 

            Ran narrowed his eyes and shook his head. No, no, no. He didn't have time to think about status. He was already at the bottom of the pile. Why bother to fight your way somewhere above that, only to wind up back underneath everybody when you blink? 

            He glared around at the lockers and started to head down to the lunchroom when the door next to him opened suddenly. A teacher stepped out, one with fiery red-orange hair and a very casual appearance. He flicked off the lights and didn't seem to notice Ran until he turned around. 

            "Eh? Oh, what do you want?" 

            "…nothing." 

            "Then get to lunch. Don't want to be late, do you?" The man grinned and sauntered off with an air of undeniable grace. Ran glared after him. There had to be something connecting this teacher, that room, and Ken. 

            "…I…" Ran shook his head. "Lunch. Now." 

            On the way down, he stopped at his locker to pick up his CD player for some reason. A recently burned disc was inside, halfway through some song Yohji had claimed was the best song in the world. Ran snorted and slipped the earphones over his head, then headed down to the lunchroom. He completely avoided the lunch line. Food was not on today's agenda. 

            He slumped down on his bench and listened to the music while watching the other students mosey around and chat. 

            _My tea's gone cold, I'm wonderin' why I _

_            Got out of bed at all _

_            The morning rainclouds out my window _

_            And I can't see at all _

_            Even if I could it'd all be gray _

_            Put your picture on my wall _

_            It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad… _

_           Ran narrowed his eyes. The song was a deft reminder of his past. He mouthed the words as unnoticeably as possible. _

            _Drank too much last night, got bills to pay _

_            My head just feels in pain _

_            I missed the bus and there'll be hell today _

_            I'm late for work again _

_            And even if I'm there they'll all imply _

_            That I might not last the day _

_            And then you called me and it's not so bad _

_            It's not so bad…¹_

_            That reminded him more of Yohji, except that Yohji didn't work. _

            A group of kids pointed at Ran and hid behind their books. At that exact moment, the redhead sneezed once. 

            _Damn bitches. _

_            The song finished and changed to one that Ran didn't pay attention to. He was more concentrated on trying to look like he wasn't focusing on the group of kids who were obviously talking about him. Too bad he was sitting at such a distance that he couldn't hear them. _

            He closed his eyes a little and tried to shut out everything around him. For a few minutes it worked; the constant murmur of voices surrounding him faded into a distant buzz, and the world was nothing but darkness. 

            Darkness…just like the moment after that huge force struck him in the chest. 

            His eyes snapped open. NO. No. He wasn't going to remember anything right now. He couldn't. It could make him hurt someone here, and he didn't want to hurt anyone right now. 

            Not in the middle of school, anyway. Although in Crawford's class, it might not be such a bad idea… 

           He snickered slightly to himself and hit the 'stop' button on the CD player. He left the earphones in and just sat there, watching life pass around him. 

           Here and there, groups of friends (girls, boys, or mixed) chattered about new loves and who was going out with who, when Homecoming would be (which was next week), who was going to be ridiculed (most likely it would be Ran or the other four losers who didn't sit at a table), and what parties were going on that Friday. Lavishly decorated lives hid true faces. 

            Ran glanced over at the jock's section of the lunchroom and sought out the soccer table. There they were, the pride of the school: the championship winning soccer team for the fall season. Would the spring season yield such good results? Had practice for the next week been cancelled due to the prediction for November snow? 

            Not like Ran would ever know. 

            The brunette, Ken, was sitting amidst the other boys, laughing and talking as if there was nothing wrong in the world. Ran narrowed his eyes slightly. There had certainly been a problem earlier, but…hell! He shook his head viciously. 

            Ken was nothing more to him than a partner on a project. Ken was a jock, Ran was a loser. The former was popular, the latter was hardly acknowledged. One was on top of the world, the other was at his feet. 

            _So why did you give him your sweater? Honestly. If you were acting like yourself, you would have shoved him away and just walked on by… _

_            Ran looked at the floor and turned his CD player back on. So maybe he didn't think of Ken as merely another boy. But certainly he didn't like him! _

            _Ah, but is that what your heart says? _

_            A growl escaped his mouth, and he turned the volume up louder. He did *not* like Ken. It was impossible. He didn't like anybody, and nobody liked him in return. _

            …right? 

¹ 'Thank You', by Dido. J-chan wrote a BradxSchu songfic about it. 


	13. Dreaming Nightmares

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. 

            (_Three days later) _

_            You came again. _

_            You came and saw me. _

_            You sat there and watched me and smiled at me and scared me. _

_            You didn't care if they saw you. _

_            You couldn't care. _

            Ken reached a hand into his gym locker and sought out his shirt. The dirty gray mass was hidden under his shoes, but he continued to reach around. He wanted to buy himself a little time in here, time to think. 

            He had a new bruise today. It was on his hip. Schuldig had been in a possessive mood, and Ken hadn't been quick enough with his books to escape before the man got to him. 

            First he'd been pulled from his chair. Then he'd been shoved back into a corner. When he tried to block the invading hands, he had been hit: slapped twice, once on the right cheek, once on the left. The bruise had resulted from his being forced into a bookshelf and meeting with a corner. 

            However, this had less of an effect on Ken than usual. Schuldig was occasionally in moods like this, and he had always been sent from the room shaken and disheveled. Which was how he was when the man had pushed him out earlier. 

            But there was someone out there. 

            Ran. 

            The name of a man with violet eyes. 

            That one person Ken had been working with for a few days now. The very same one that Ken had seen write beautiful words on a piece of paper but hide their true meanings behind icy glares. Ran had been passing at the very moment Ken had staggered out, terrified and shivering. 

           Ran had known something was wrong. How could he not have? Most kids didn't leave their classes looking like that. The redhead had even asked Ken if something was wrong. 

            And then proceeded to give Ken his sweater. 

            That orange sweater looked just like one Ken had at home. He'd stifled his tears with the sleeve, inhaling deeply, smelling the scent of a locker and…something else. Something like a flower. 

            Ran. 

            The name of a man with violet eyes. 

            Who knew he was so sensitive? 

            Ken pulled his gym shirt with both hands, stretching the fabric. He had a faint smile on his face. 

            Was this really a crush? 

            The bell rang, snapping Ken back into the cold Hell that was reality. He pulled off his normal shirt and slipped the other one on as quickly as he could. It wouldn't do to let others see his scars and bruises. No, not at all… 

            A couple of the soccer players came in next to him, twirling the dials on their lockers with ease. They were talking about future games and practices, girls and dates. Ken smiled and listened quietly without joining in. 

            "Oi, Ken! You're quiet today. What's up?" 

            "Eh?!" Ken nearly jumped. "Oh…um…just…something on my mind." 

            "A girl?" asked one boy slyly, inching up next to Ken. 

            "N-no!" he said, blushing furiously. 

            "Ooh, he's blushing!" laughed a second boy. Suddenly Ken found himself being grabbed by a group of other boys and pushed down on a bench. One gripped each arm while a third leered in his face. 

            "C'mon, Ken, out with it! Who'd you get a date with?" 

            "I – there's not – I mean – I don't have a date!" 

            "Lie!" yelped the boy to his right. 

            "Just tell us!" 

            "I bet I know who it is!" 

            "Who?" 

            "That Michiru girl. I know it!" 

            Laughter burst from the soccer player's wing of the locker room, drawing attention from the other boys. Ken, who was getting redder with every word, managed to pull out of the grasp of his friends. 

            "Just leave me alone, ok? I don't have a date!" 

            The grins didn't diminish, but one boy leaned on Ken's shoulder and nodded, seeming to believe him. Ken turned back to his locker, trying to ignore the banter going on behind him. Always about girls, always about dates…god! Couldn't he just be left out on occasion? 

            He furiously tried to flatten his hair, which had been ruffled in the tiny struggle he'd put up earlier. They were coming close…TOO close…to guessing what he was really thinking about. 

            Ran. 

            The name of a man with violet eyes. 

            He shut his eyes tight and pulled off his jeans. Now for the windpants, and he would be set. If only he could keep his mind off the image of – 

            Oh, God! 

            He stuffed his day clothes into the locker and shut it, then proceeded to lean his forehead against the cool metal. It was slightly refreshing, but hardly anything compared to the freezing cold touch of Ran earlier, when their hands had just barely brushed together. 

            So beautiful… 

            The bell rang again, telling them to get to class or they'd be dead rats. Ken turned and headed out the door to the open fields, still blank and empty, still brown, still dead. Totally quiet except for the occasional call of a crow. 

            It was cloudy today… 

            The coach had followed him out, along with a small group of boys and a couple girls who had finished dressing early. A blast of wind ruffled everyone's hair and blew the cap of the teacher's head. There was a minor scramble to get it back, resulting in one boy being tripped into a puddle of mud. 

            Normally, Ken would have laughed. But he wasn't even looking at them. His eyes were elsewhere, gazing at the hazy gray sky, his head lost in the clouds… 

            "Ken? Ken!" 

            He turned. 

            "Ken, are you awake? We need to get ready." The teacher was clutching his hat in one hand tightly. 

            "Oh…yeah. I'm ready." A group of boys had gathered nearby, mostly older ones. Ken looked at them, then past them. 

            Right at Ran. 

            Had this been any normal day, he would have just gone on looking. However, the reality made this anything but a normal day, or a normal week, or even a normal week-to-be. Ran was looking at the ground, his hand locked around one arm, his eartails being tossed around by the wind. He didn't even seem to notice when they were blown in his face. 

            Ken quickly turned away so he wouldn't be caught staring. 

            "Ok! Today, we're going to be playing one last game of frisbee! I hope you're all prepared." A collective groan was heard; the class was sick of playing frisbee. They'd been playing it for so damn long! At least they'd start a new unit soon. 

            Ken was divided with a group of other sophomores over to a field. The older boys were sent to a second field, but Ken noticed that the teacher had given Ran a whistle and pushed him over to where Ken would be playing. His heart skipped a beat. A referee! Ran would be a referee, and for his game! 

            …why had he just thought that?... 

            The game started off normally: Ran threw the frisbee as far and as hard as he could into the fray, and near-fights had begun for the possession of the damn plastic circle. Ken wasn't familiar with something like this. It was hard and round, with an edge that curved inward and hurt his fingers. He didn't like throwing it; he had surprisingly weak arms for a boy, and his wrist was starting to ache from all the times he'd been forced to use it in the passes. 

            After a particularly difficult scoring, Ken stood up and half turned around, grinning and panting slightly from the effort of running such a distance. He was really hot despite the icy cold of the air around him, and he was going to turn the rest of the way around to see if Ran had marked down the score. 

            Something made him stop. 

            There was a car parked on the edge of the street some distance away, but Ken recognized it without hesitation. Black. Small. Tinted windows. The driver's window was rolled down, and there was someone sitting in the seat. They were wearing sunglasses. 

            Smirking. 

            Ken felt his body temperature drop 30 degrees. The grin vanished from his face, and he was seized by a fear few people ever felt. 

            _Why are you here?! _

_            The window rolled up. The car took to the road. _

            Ken couldn't stop staring. 

            _You came and you saw and you smirked and you didn't care… _

            "For this project," began Ken's English teacher, "You're going to have to get together with your partner outside of school. I can't provide you all the work time you need in class." 

            Ken wasn't listening. He just tapped his pencil against the edge of a blank sheet of notebook paper, trying to stay casual. 

            "This means a meeting somewhere. A mall, maybe, or a park. The best place would be one of your homes." 

            Ken still wasn't listening. 

            "For now, today will be your last day to…are you paying attention?" 

            Ken's head snapped up, too late to realize that the teacher had been talking to some girls in the back row. 

            "Ye – …." 

            The girls sulked, red-faced, in the back row as the teacher went back to explaining. Ken pushed back the seize of fear in his chest that had snapped into place like a rubber band. 

            "As I was saying," continued the teacher, obviously miffed, "Today is your last chance to work on your projects in class. You will have to get together outside of school." 

            Something else slammed into Ken's chest. 

            _Ohmygod I can't let him come to my house he can't see it he can't I can't let him know! _

_            It was fear again, but a different kind of fear. The one before had been the momentary fear you felt during school when you think that a project is due today, when really it's due tomorrow. This was a choking kind of fear, the fear a criminal feels when the judge sentences them to death. _

            _Ohmyfuckinggod… _

_            Ran was stalking in Ken's direction again. Ken clutched his pencil so tight it should have broken. _

            _Noooo… _

_            The older boy sat down and glanced at Ken. They had grown surprisingly close over just a few day's time. Not like friend-friend close, but the kind of 'hi-I-know-you-from-school' close. _

            That didn't mean Ken felt safe with bringing somebody _anybody to his home. _

            "Here's - …is something wrong?" 

            "What?! No! No. Nothing's wrong," Ken said with surprise and false cheer. He scrambled to find his English notebook buried somewhere deep in his backpack. 

            "…What are you doing?" 

            "Trying to find my notebook." 

            "…It's on your desk, idiot." 

            And so it was. 

            "Oh. Uh…er…" Ken blushed with embarrassment. Ran gave him one more odd look before flipping into his own notebook. 

           "Here's where we left off." He started looking over the few items that were scribbled down in his impeccable cursive. Ken attempted to look at the same things, but he could only concentrate on one thing. 

            "…um….R…an…?..." 

            "Hn." The redhead was still icy. 

            "…do you think…erm…if we have to get together…" 

            "We'll have to." 

            "Oh." Ken glanced away, blushing furiously from embarrassment, shame, and terror. "…wh…when we do…could we…I mean, could you…could we go to…your place?" 

            "Sure." 

            "Wh – are you sure?" 

            "Yes. Now stop acting stupid and help me with this." Ran started writing a new section in his notebook. 

            Ken was surprised; he'd expected someone like Ran to be totally against going to 'his place'. After all, this was a tough guy redhead with a fuse shorter than an eyelash. He got into fights and scared kids he looked at. Usually, those kinds of people beat you up if you even mentioned their home. 

            "Uh…ok. What's today's topic…?" 

            "We need to make a presentation." 

            "I know that," Ken said irritably. "What part are you on?" 

            "The poster." 

            Recently they had been told that there wasn't just a 'story' to do. They had to make a full presentation. Damn graduation standards… 

            "Th-that's good. …Do you have any sketches?" 

            Ran nodded and flipped a few pages in his notebook. Sketches came into view: pencil ones, extremely rough and undefined. Ken could hardly make anything out until Ran got to slightly more developed pictures. 

            They weren't love-love pictures; there were no couples, no kissing, no puppy love, no daily romance. These weren't kind pictures; there wasn't anybody giving away money or clothes, no donating food items, no volunteering to serve soup. This wasn't what most kids thought of when they pictured kindness. 

            Yet somehow, they described the word so well. 

            One was of a boy offering his hand to someone in the street, a smile on his face, one that promised a warm home and good food. Another was of a little girl sharing crayons with another girl who had less. Third was a girl mending the broken wing of a tiny bird. They went on, different people, different things, different ideas of something kind. 

            This was simple kindness, a tiny act of goodness that can spawn into a million other acts of goodness. This was the sort of thing Ken had always been deprived of in life. Simplicities were not good enough for him, so he'd never seen or had them. The littlest kindness he'd ever experienced was when he watched a kindergarten age girl feed a kitten on the street one time. 

            The amazing thing about these pictures was that each was drawn with what seemed like a caring hand. They were skillfully made as if they had taken hours upon hours to draw. Most surprising of all was, despite their utter minimalism, they seemed to have an immense level of detail. 

            He caught himself staring in awe of these breathtaking pictures. Ran was letting him turn the pages as much as he needed. The redhead didn't seem to have any objections to handing his notebook over to Ken. 

            Then Ken turned the page, and saw a picture that obviously wasn't meant for the posters; it wasn't kind anymore. It was terrifying, horrifying, blinding, awe-inspiring. Ken found himself trapped in the deadly gaze of two car headlights as they raced toward a single standing figure. A second figure was racing into the scene, her face twisted in fear and determination. It looked almost as if – 

            The notebook was slammed shut in his face. Ken jerked and pulled his fingers away from it, looking at Ran in wonder. The man's eyes were shut. Had Ken hit on something private? Whatever it was, he was sorry… 

            "…sorry." 

            "It's nothing." 

            "…you know…" Ken looked away slightly. "…Those drawings were really good. They looked like they could come alive at any second." 

            Ran said nothing. Ken coughed and went on. 

            "I…I mean, they were…really lifelike. And really kind, too. Just the kind of things you…might see every day, but…that most people don't pay attention to…you know, the little things." He glanced over at Ran, who was giving him an unreadable expression. "…They'd really fit the poster. I think you did a great job." 

            This was just his opinion, though. He doubted Ran would care. 

            "….you really think so?" 

            "Um, yeah." Ken looked at Ran. 

            For a moment, those stunning eyes weren't icy cold and glazed over; they were a different person, an entirely different idea of who Fujimiya Ran was. This wasn't the isolated redhead who everybody ignored and made fun of. This was a vulnerable, normal person who, for the first time, had just been told that he was really someone special and valuable to the world. 

            Just for a moment… 

            The barrier returned with a blink, and Ran looked away. Ken also looked back at his desk. What just happened there…? 

            "…we…" Ran began, then stopped. "…which one should we use? I can redraw it on bigger paper." 

            "Oh. Um…that first one…or maybe the one with the bird…what was the story about again?" 

            "Rescue." 

            "Oh!...Right." Rescue. Of course. They had written about a young man being rescued from an abusive family who nearly killed him sometimes. He had been pulled from a horror story life to one with a future by a girl who really cared, who really watched, and who saw the person behind the cold screen of rejection and bad grades. 

            So similar to my own life, Ken thought, only it's the opposite with my screen. 

            The two of them worked for a long time on the project, until the teacher announced that they should start getting ready to leave. Kids gladly abandoned their work and chattered gaily about their after-school lives and what they would be doing as soon as they got away from this God-cursed place. Ken, on the other hand, was mad. The hour had gone so quickly! Now he had to go back home, where he certainly didn't want to go. Not after what happened in PE. 

            "Ken." 

            "Hm?" 

            "Can you come over tomorrow?" 

            Ken was caught completely off guard by the question. Tomorrow? Tomorrow! He had really asked. Ran had asked if Ken could come over tomorrow. To work on the project, of course, but…still! He had asked! 

            "I…" He blinked. "I…I'll ask my guardian." 

            "Oh." Ran nodded slightly, pulling on his backpack. "Tell me tomorrow, then." 

            "I will." 

            The bell rang, and then two of them parted ways as soon as they left the room. Ken was feeling lighter than he had in a long time. He would really get to be alone with Ran, for once… 

            This time, he didn't try to push his feelings away. He knew there was something he really felt toward the older boy. Now, to see if Ran felt the same way… 

            He was so lost in his thoughts that he hardly noticed his return home. It was as if he was in a dream, a wonderful dream, about to be punctured by waking up. Oh well. He was here and now, and he still had a little time. 

            Opening the door to his apartment wasn't even enough to burst his bubble of happiness. Trying to act casual, he shut the door silently and put his backpack in his room. He knew his guardian had a session tonight, and would want dinner very early. Plus, he wouldn't be home 'til late that night, giving Ken a free night. This made him even happier, and the boy went about preparing the meal smiling slightly. 

            Dreams end, but sometimes they end with a nightmare. Two arms wrapped around Ken's chest, drawing him back into a tender embrace. Again the blood froze in his veins. 

            "Good afternoon, Ken." Soft warm breath blew on the back of his neck. Ken, although scared as usual, pulled against the arms slightly. 

            "I'll bring in dinner when it's done, Farfarello. You know that." 


	14. What They Know

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. 

            "He said yes. I can come." 

            "That's good." Ran paused to pull his calculus book out of his locker. "Meet me back here after school, then." 

            "Ok." 

            Ran watched as Ken departed. The boy almost ran into the crowd of students around him. He had been smiling… 

            The redhead slowly shut his locker and traced a finger along the spine of the textbook he held. Something funny stirred in his stomach every time he saw Ken, something…like butterflies. Like the ones he'd had in his stomach since breakfast after remembering that he'd promised to let Ken come over. 

            He hadn't told Yohji. 

            Not like it would matter. Yohji didn't mind guests and often asked Ran when he was going to get a girlfriend – or, more recently, a boyfriend. 

            "Bring them over!" he'd say repeatedly. "Bring SOMEbody over, and I'll evaluate them for you." 

            "Leave me alone." 

            The fights always went like that. 

            A warning bell rang, breaking in on Ran's inner monologue. He had two minutes to get to class or he was screwed. With Crawford, it was worse. 

            So he ran. 

            He made it to Crawford's class with only a minute to spare, but he wasn't the worst off; five kids made it in late that day. After all, it was Friday. People had things to talk about. Why should school have to get in the way of a social life? The injustice! Injustice! 

            Ran felt like laughing. 

            "Late, late, late." Crawford ticked off the people who had darted into the room after the bell. "Late…late. You five will be staying after. If you don't, detention." 

            _What crawled up your ass today, Crawford? _

_            "Get out last night's review. Today is the chapter test." _

            _Ah, I see. Not looking forward to a weekend of correcting little children's calculus errors? _

_            Everybody groaned and pulled out their sloppy pages of homework. Ran noticed a sneer flicker across Crawford's face. This would be enjoyable, to say the least…he was absolutely sure he'd gotten every problem correct on the review sheet. _

            Not that Crawford the gaijin would care. 

            Oh yes. This man was not Japanese. Everybody knew it. He didn't look Japanese, even if he spoke the language better than most of the kids around him. Gold eyes were uncommon…very uncommon. 

            Besides, he'd told them on the first day that he was American. 

            Ran handed forward his papers. He realized that he'd get them back with a perfect score, but with several marks as to how he'd done his problems 'incorrectly' drawn on his impeccable numbers. 

            "Hn…Since we're having a test today, there won't be any homework." Crawford straightened his tie and collected the reviews. "During the test, nobody talks. If you do, you fail." 

            _There must be something else rattling up that steel rod in your back. I wonder what it is… _

_            "The test is four pages long. You may use your calculators. Begin." _

            _Ooh, four pages. Front and back or separated? _

_            As usual, they were front to back. Crawford hated wasting paper. Ran looked his over, each page individually, checking for what kind of problems there were, what layout, what extra credit there was. _

            Ran didn't rush himself; he took his time, knowing that he had a full 80 minutes to do as he wished, and missing lunch was hardly a pressing matter. The other kids were hurrying and rushing and racing and trying to finish early so they could sleep and be fully rested for lunch so they could talk to their friends and talk and chatter and giggle and spread rumors and ruin lives without a care in the world. 

            Life is wonderful, ne? 

            He was halfway done with the third page when the bell for lunch rang. Several cries of despair were heard, and there was a vast amount of paper shuffling heard. Ran ignored it. Crawford did, too. 

            Kids scattered from the room, and after five minutes, left behind only one red-haired student and the teacher. For some time, Crawford thought the room was empty. 

            There was a sudden sound of paper being turned; his deadly golden gaze shot from the papers he was grading to the source of the sound. Ran was still in his desk, still working on the test as if he didn't have any reason to rush. His pencil was moving slowly from problem to problem, his eyes locked on the paper, his head balanced delicately on the tips of his right fingers. The crimson bangs and eartails hung limply in his face, making the impression that he was totally uncaring of his appeal. 

            They made him look strangely attractive… 

            Crawford narrowed his eyes. A few of his own bangs, long and delicate and oddly shaped as spider's legs, fell across his vision. He didn't bother to brush them away. They made him look more threatening. 

            Ran finished his test ten minutes later. The boy stood up and brought his test to the front of the room – to Crawford's desk. He put it down, long fingers gently setting it on the amassed pile of other student's tests, and was about to go back when Crawford spoke. 

            "You certainly took a long time." 

            _Why did you take so long? _

            A question in the form of a statement. 

            "I don't like rushing. I make mistakes." 

            _So I wouldn't have to go near you. _

            "Very intelligent of you." Crawford reached out and took Ran's test. "Would you like me to grade this now?" He cast one look at Ran. 

            Ran nodded. 

            So began the process of the midterm exam grading. The answer sheet lay nearby, forgotten. Crawford was correcting purely out of his mind. He held a red pen in his right hand and the test in his left, looking over the answers with a blank, impassive gaze. 

            The first page – no marks. The second page – no marks. The third page – the pen came within millimeters, but pulled back at the last second. The fourth page… 

            "Very well done," commented Crawford, putting down the pen and handing Ran his test. "Nobody's ever gotten a perfect test before." 

            At the top of Ran's paper was the score: ten points over the top because he'd gotten even the extra credit right. 

            "Have I bested the best?" 

            _Did I beat you at your own game? _

_            "You must have studied very hard." _

            _You could never come close. _

_            "I was up most of the night." _

            _I'll keep going until I do. _

_            "It must have been a strain." _

            _I'd like to see you try. _

_            Ran glared at his teacher. The idle pleasantries between them masked words that could never be said out loud. If anyone heard them, they could be reported, and with a report could come expulsion. _

            And Ran didn't have Crawford's uncanny ability to escape tight spots. 

            The sunlight flashed through the room's single window and reflected off the teacher's glasses, giving the impression that he didn't have eyes. Only for a moment, but enough of a moment to blind Ran and make him blink. 

            A tiny smirk appeared on Crawford's face. Ran resisted the urge to take a step back. 

            "Something bothering you?" 

            _What's wrong? Scared? _

_            "…no. Nothing." _

            _Like hell. _

_            The redhead turned and walked away from the desk, leaving his test behind. He swept up his book and papers and turned to leave. _

            And he would have, except that Crawford was blocking his only route out of the rows of chairs. 

            _Oh shit. _

_            "I think there's something bothering you." _

            "How would you know?" 

            "Because I can." 

            'Because I can.' Damnit! Why did Crawford always give stupid cryptic answers like that? Not only did they confuse Ran, but he could never figure them out. Who could figure them out? God damn it! 

            "What does that mean?" 

            "I don't have to tell you." 

            He certainly couldn't fight with that. 

            "…what do you want from me?" Ran expected Crawford to say something to the effect of 'your death'. After all, that's what he usually got. 

            "How many times have you asked me that?" responded the gaijin. Ran blinked. "Every time you're the last one out the door, you ask me what I want from you." Crawford came forward a few steps. "Why do you ask me that?" 

            "Avoiding the question?" Ran snapped, sweat trickling down his face. 

            "Answer me." 

            "I ask because…because you always respond with my death. Why do you want me to die?!" Ran felt a tiny fury building inside him, taking control of his words and emotions. "What's wrong with you?! You're so obsessed with being perfect, every time someone outdoes you, you…you try to kill them!" 

            It was only an assumption, but it must have been dead on because Crawford blinked in surprise. 

            "I got the question right and you got it wrong _because you misread it. You're not perfect, you bastard!" Ran was nearly screaming now. "Nobody's perfect! You tell me why you want to kill me, what your issues are with me doing something, __anything better than you, and I'll answer any damn question you throw at me!" _

            There was silence following Ran's outburst. That was the most he'd said to any teacher in…years. Crawford was staring at him, shocked. Ran was breathing hard. He was tired of taking shit from this man. It would stop now. 

            Ah, if only victory wasn't so fleeting…Crawford's look turned to one of twisted, cruel rage and malice. Without warning, he had stalked over to Ran, grabbed his collar, and tripped him…actually tripped him…so he was hanging from Crawford's hand by only his collar. Amethyst eyes snapped wide in fear. He grabbed his teacher's wrist to keep from losing his balance completely. 

            "You know what I could do if I reported those words?" hissed the older man. "I could get you expelled. Kicked out of this school for good. You could say goodbye to your future, because without a high school diploma you'd be on the streets in a matter of days!" 

            For a short time, Crawford kept up words that ripped open wounds on Ran's body and rubbed salt into them. 

            "I know everything about you, Fujimiya. I know where you live, who you live with, and most of all, _why you live there. Don't ask me how I know. I just do. Those are personal files, aren't they? It would be a real shame if they somehow made their way into the principal's line of sight… _

            "I suggest you keep your trap shut. After all, I almost killed you once. I _will do it again." He dropped Ran, whose hands slipped from his arm, and stalked out of the room to get lunch. _

            Silence. No sounds other than Ran's labored, terrified breathing. 

            Those words…Crawford knew. He knew. He knew about Ran's past. He knew everything. He knew why Ran didn't have a family. He knew. He knew he knew he knew. Ran took a shuddering breath and picked himself up. He gathered his books and left the room, heading for a closet or an empty classroom or something. Anything. 

            The door - the front entrance to the school - was a mere few feet away. He staggered out the door and into the bright sunshine. Blinded, Ran tripped over one of the steps and fell to the side, off the front path, onto a gently sloping hill. He crashed into the grass and rolled, rolled, rolled until he'd lost all his books and papers and was lying on his back, staring up at the clouds. 

            _Wow…so blue… _

            How did Crawford know? Ran felt like killing him. Nobody could know! Nobody but Yohji and the people at the special services place. It was personal business, and Crawford had no right to know… 

            _…it's pretty… _

            Ran stared at the sky and clouds all lunch hour, then picked up his stuff and headed to the gym lockers. He didn't care if his clothes had grass stains on them; after all, so did his PE clothes… 

~~~ 

            Ran put his books and folders in his backpack. He was constantly being stuck with flying backpacks and students as they raced for the door, for their buses, for a free ride home for the whole weekend! A weekend in which they could finally be free to do whatever they wanted and not care about homework until it was too late. 

            Ran just put his stuff away, avoiding strikes as best he could. His heart was pounding slightly; butterflies were crashing into the walls of his stomach. 

            Ken was coming over…! 

            Just as he shut his locker, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned halfway around and saw Ken. 

            "Hey. Are you ready?" 

            "Uh…yeah." 

            He zipped up his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and headed for the door. 

            "I walk home. You don't mind, do you?" he asked nervously. 

            "No, I walk home too." 

            "Oh." 

            They walked in silence for some time. Ken kicked dry leaves along the street. Ran kept his eyes ahead, looking for the usual markings that informed him when to turn, where to go. 

            Suddenly a car pulled up next to them; Ran tensed as the brakes gave a slight screech. He backed away from the tinted windows. Ken, however, only stopped walking. What…? 

            One of the windows rolled down. In the driver's seat was a pale-skinned man with very short, white hair. He was wearing sunglasses, but Ran had the impression there was an eyepatch under the left lens… 

            "Hello, Ken," said the man in a very quiet voice. Ran noted a tinge of…was that…jealousy…?! 

            "Hello." 

            "Is this your school friend?" 

            "Yes. His name is Ran." Ran nodded slightly in the direction of the man. 

            "Hn. Just remember to be home in time for dinner." 

            "Of course." 

            The window rolled up, and the car drove away. 

            After a short silence: 

            "…was that your guardian?" 

            "Yes." Ken's voice was dampened. He'd grown pale and…even shaky. Ran looked around; it was icy cold… 

            Suddenly, a sharp blast of cold wind rammed into them. Ken yelled and Ran lifted an arm to protect his eyes. Yet the force of the wind alone was enough to send Ken staggering backwards – right into Ran. 

            The wind died down as quickly as it had started, leaving the two boys in a fairly awkward state. Ken was almost literally clinging to Ran, and Ran just about had an arm wrapped around Ken's shoulders to keep them both upright. Ken looked up, Ran looked down, and they both leapt apart. 

            "Oh god! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" 

            "No, it-it's my fault, I should have been watching…" 

            "I wasn't paying attention, I didn't…" Ken blushed furiously, looking for all the world like a schoolchild who was just told by a girl that she likes him. Ran turned away and lifted a hand to his icy cold cheeks. 

            Only to find them hot, very hot… 

            "Ah…" He knew he was blushing. He rubbed his face furiously, trying to make it look like the cold had stung him, and turned back to Ken. Who was doing the same, it seemed. 

            "Well…ah…we should keep going." 

            "Yeah." Ken nodded, smiling embarrassedly. 

            The two of them continued walking for some time, turning at occasional streets, but never saying anything. Soon they had reached Ran's run-down apartment building. 

            "We're here." 

            "You live here?" Ken sounded almost incredulous. 

            "Yes," snapped Ran. Then he sighed a little. "Sorry. I'm just…a little…self-conscious of it." 

            "It's a nice place." 

            Ran blinked and blushed a little more. Oh, for the love of… 

            They entered, Ran using his key to get into the building, and headed up several flights of stairs until they reached his door. Key in, door unlocked, step inside. 

            Ken followed Ran in and looked around, taking in every corner, every inch of the tiny apartment. Ran felt his face grow hot in embarrassment again. What if Ken thought he was just some poor, stupid man who lived with an even poorer, stupider man? 

            Speaking of Yohji… 

            Yohji, who had been dozing on the couch, heard Ran come in. Before he could make his usual greeting of 'yo', he heard a _second pair of feet. Instantly he was at the doorless doorframe and peeping into the front hall. Ran saw him look. _

            Yohji looked at Ran, looked at Ken, grinned like the Cheshire Cat, and started laughing. Ken stared. Ran stared. 

            "…that's Yohji. He's my roommate." 

            "Oh," Ken said, looking relieved. 

            As they took off their shoes and prepared to go into Ran's room, Yohji broke out of his laughing fit and smirked at them both. 

            "So, Ran! You finally brought someone over! I've been waiting a long time for this to happen." He pantomimed a mother watching her child go on a first date. "My little baby's growing up!" 

            "Wha…" The meaning of the words finally took full force on Ran. "N-no! It's not like that! Yohji!" 

            "You're blushing…" 

            And he was. Ran's face was hotter than the surface of the sun and he could fee lit. 

            "It's not – he's not – we're not – arrghh!" 

            Ken blinked, slowly coming to the realization that Yohji thought – 

            "What?!" 

            Suddenly, Yohji was up on his feet again and striding towards Ken, grinning madly. Ken didn't even have time to back away before the tall blonde was poking and prodding him, muttering things under his breath. Ran looked as if he wanted to repeatedly bash his head into a wall. Or better yet, repeatedly bash Yohji's head into a wall. 

            "Hm…nice abs…good muscles…a little short…really nice eyes…you go for eyes, don't you, Ran?" 

            "Yohji…!!!" 

            "You play a sport?" questioned Yohji suddenly. 

            "Soccer," Ken responded, half terrified and half utterly confused. 

            "Ooh, you got yourself a jock boyfriend!" 

            Both Ran and Ken looked ready to die. 

            "Yohji, we're partners on a project. We need to get it done." Ran was suddenly all business, but he didn't look it. Yohji winked knowingly. 

            "Ah, yes…a school project. Go on, then, into your room…I won't bother you…" He winked at Ken and leaned over to Ran. "Hey, chibi, take advantage while you can! He's a hot one, and a virgin, I'll bet! Girls go wild over guys like him. Hurry before they beat you to him!" 

            "Yohji!" Ran all but screamed. He was furious and embarrassed: Yohji was predicting his thoughts dead on. The blonde laughed and pranced back into the living room. 

            Ran and Ken rushed into the bedroom, Ran slamming the door behind them. And locking it, just for good measure. Ken set his backpack down on the floor and sat casually on the bed. 

            "I'm…sorry about him," Ran confessed. "He's a little…hormonal." 

            "I've met people like that," Ken responded. "But why did he think we were…you know…" 

            Ran sighed and collapsed miserably onto the bed. 

            "He's always wanted me to get a girlfriend, but recently he asked me if I was more into boys. And he just….argh! He wants to hook me up all the time!" 

            "Oh." 

            There was silence for a while. Ken looked confused and thoughtful. Ran was far more embarrassed than usual. He'd just said more to Ken than he probably had to any one person since…then. Well, aside from Yohji, anyway. 

            "…well, we should get started on the project." 

            "Right." 

            Ran pulled a notebook out of his backpack and flipped to the pages filled with sketches. He'd done one or two more, of just…simple kindness. They were rushed, though, because he'd done them right before school that day. 

            "So what one should we use?"  asked Ken, lying on his stomach and peering over Ran's shoulder at the sketches. 

            "Don't know." 

            "Maybe…that one…?" Ken pointed to the one where a boy was holding out his hand to a homeless person. "Only make it a girl." 

            "…yeah…" Ran picked up his mechanical pencil and started sketching over the sketch. First he made the boy's face thinner, then added longer hair, changed the figure…he did this all so easily. It was just something that came to him. 

            He felt Ken slide closer. 

            "Wow," the boy breathed. "You're really good." 

            "Thanks." 

            That was the first time anybody had ever said those words to him since he was 14. 

            "Ok, so…like this?" 

            "Yeah. Maybe…make it a little more like a…a real home behind her…with a glowing doorway?" 

            "I see, I see…" Ran drew furiously, following Ken's words exactly. His hand moved over the paper, his pencil creating new lines, new creations, new worlds. 

            When he was done, it was insanely sketchy, but finished. 

            "Wow," breathed Ken again. "That's…that's really good. Really, really good. You're more talented than anyone I've ever met." 

            "Thank you," Ran said again, feeling embarrassed for the nth time that day. 

            Ken pulled a folded up piece of paper out of his backpack and handed it to Ran. 

            "Here, this is the paper you can draw on for the final…sorry it's folded, but my backpack was too small to keep it full size." Ran unfolded the paper and gazed at the plain white surface. He could already see what was going to be where… 

            "It's ok…folds help sometimes." He smoothed it out on his floor and started sketching very lightly. Ken watched from the bed. 

            After five minutes, Ken said, "I don't know how you can turn shapes like that into something so…so…amazing." 

            "It takes practice," Ran responded, starting to connect shapes. "First you need to know what you're drawing, then you need to see it on the paper. Then you sketch it…if that doesn't come out right, keep trying." Body, hair, background… "Once you've got the sketch, then you have to try a few extra copies…but I think I can do this without anything else." 

            Ken was listening, totally enraptured, as Ran talked and drew. Neither one seemed to notice the passing of time, nor how Ran was actually talking now, not being his normal, locked up, icy self. They were completely trapped in a world of their own creation. 

            Of their own… 

            Ran stopped eventually, sitting back and admiring his work. The pencil part was finished. It was perfect, too. He even smiled a little. 

            When he turned his head to see what Ken thought of it, he found himself nearly nose to nose with the boy. Ken was halfway off the bed, staring at the picture, not noticing that his head was right next to Ran's. 

            "You're…it's a masterpiece." Ken slid back onto the bed, still staring at the picture. But when Ran got up to put the paper on his desk, he caught a glimmer of tears on the edges of Ken's eyes. What…? 

            "Ken. Are you ok?" 

            "…what? Oh! Yes. I'm fine. Nothing's wrong. I'm ok." He furiously wiped at his eyes. "Nothing's bad, nothing's wrong, I'm good, I'm ok…" 

            "You said the same thing on Monday." Ran folded up the paper and set it on his desk. "And you really didn't look ok then." 

            Ken didn't answer. He pulled his knees up to his chest, having suddenly gone from enraptured to withdrawn. Ran blinked. That position…that tone of voice…that kind of abrupt mood swing…was familiar. 

            He did it all the time. 

            Slowly he sat down on the bed next to Ken. 

            "…Ken, there's…I think there's something wrong…what is it?" 

            "Not wrong, nothing's wrong, I'm fine, I'm fine," Ken said, as if Ran wasn't right there next to him. 

            "Ken." 

            Ken stopped talking and looked at Ran. 

            "I know there's something wrong." 

            "…you couldn't know…" 

            "I do!" he said a little fiercely. "I do know." Softer now. "I have troubles myself. But yours…must be…" Ran fought with himself. "…must be worse." 

            Ken's gaze moved to the bedspread. He let go of his knees and pulled his body onto his legs, so he was sitting with his legs beneath him. 

            "…really. There's…it's not that bad." 

            "That man in the car. Your guardian. Right?" 

            "Yes…" 

            "…You looked pale after you talked with him." 

            Ken didn't respond. 

            "Pale, shaky, and…he sounded almost jealous." Ran pulled one leg onto the bed. "Why did he…?" 

            "It's…it's not his fault," Ken said softly, tracing a pattern on the blanket. "It's just…he really likes me." 

            _…holy shit. _

_            "He doesn't want…anybody to…you know. Take me away." _

            Ran listened, eyes widening ever so slowly. 

            "When my parents died," Ken went on, choking slightly from time to time, "he…offered to take care of me. He was a friend of theirs. My parents, I mean." 

            He paused to swallow. "Since I didn't have any relatives or older siblings, they just…put me in his care. And back then he was nicer, he didn't have any…any problems." 

            "Problems…?" 

            "…he…" Ken bit his lip hard. "He's not…mentally stable." 

            "You mean he's crazy," Ran interpreted. 

            "No!" Ken said suddenly, loudly. "He's not crazy! And it's not his fault!" 

            "What? What's not his fault?" Ran pulled his other leg onto the bed. "Ken, what are you talking about?" 

            "Look, it's just…he's not mean. He's not the bad guy. He doesn't mean to hurt me! He's just lonely…he never had anyone. Ever. Except my parents, and then they died." Ken shut his eyes and clenched one fist. "Some nights, he needs…like, nights after he goes to…therapy sessions. He can't handle it, can't hold himself back. I'm…I'm there. He…" 

            Ran felt like someone had just slapped him as hard as they could. 

            The dream…the nightmare…the reality. It had been real. Ken…his guardian…? Why? 

            "Ken…why…?" 

            "I told you!" Ken cried. "It's not his fault! He just can't help himself! It's not his fault. He's not bad, he's not…he isn't!" Ken pitched forward as if his back had suddenly given out. 

            Ran dived forward and caught him, pulling him into his arms. He cradled the boy against his chest, stroking his hair, letting him cry. 

            "It's not him…it's…not his fault…" 

            "Shh…relax." 

            "He's not a bad man…" Tears poured down Ken's face. "…but I wish he wouldn't come near me…" 

            Ran only held him, let him talk. 

            "…him…and Schuldig…I wish they would stay away…" 

            "…what?" 

            "…the German teacher…hurts me, too…" 

            Ran stopped dead for a moment. So that teacher… 

            "You've been hurt too much, Ken. Too much." 

            "It's…not his fault…I just wish they would leave me alone…I wish he wouldn't touch me anymore…" 

            Ran held Ken close for the rest of the night. 


	15. On Pain of Death

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you have heard of, doesn't. 

            "Ran." 

            "Nnngh…" 

            "Ran, wakey wakey…" 

            "Go away…" 

            "Ran, it's 7:15…" 

            "What?!" 

            Ran opened his eyes and saw Yohji leaning over him. 

            "Yeah, you're late for school." 

            "Shit!" Ran pushed Yohji out of the way and rolled out of bed. His sheets tangled around his legs and he crashed to the floor. Swearing, cursing, struggling madly, Ran tried to escape his binds. 

            Only to find that Yohji was sitting on them and laughing. 

            "Baka. It's Saturday." 

            "…you…" Ran tried to lunge at his blonde roommate. Unfortunately, the sheets refused to let him go, and Yohji was parked on their place of origin. Grinning like mad. Arms folded. Holding Ran's clothing. 

            "Ah, angry, are we?" Yohji laughed. "I just wanted you to panic. You're cute when you panic." 

            "Dammit! Shut and get off me!" Ran managed to turn on his back, twisting his legs severely in the process. 

            "Nah. Like I said, you're cute when you panic, and you're even cuter when you're pissed." Yohji leaned forward and poked Ran in the nose. "And you're just adorable when you're anything but a cold, icy mask." 

            Ran blinked, then sighed. 

            "Yohji, please…" 

            "Hai, hai." The older man lifted himself from the bed and strode to the doorway. Ran shoved the sheets off his body, stood up, and fell over. 

            "Shit!!!" 

            Ran had fallen forward and just about broken his arm in the process. His right arm and hip got the most damage, being bruised almost instantly. Yohji turned and saw this. 

            "…are you ok?" 

            "No." 

            "…awwww!" 

            Ran stared. That wasn't a good noise. 

            "You poor thing! Your legs must be asleep!" Despite the sweet tone of his voice, Yohji was wearing the most devilish grin Ran had ever seen him wear. It wasn't often Yohji pulled out this grin; he only did so when he had an idea, and it was almost always embarrassing on Ran's part. 

            "…don't even think about touching me." 

            It was too late. Yohji had moved in and swept down like a vulture going in for the kill. He picked Ran up in his arms and scurried off to the bathroom. 

            "You poor innocent dear," purred the demon. "You're all red in the face! Is your arm ok?" 

            "I'm fine, dammit! Let me go, Yohji!" Ran struggled in the blonde's arms. 

            "No, you're cute like this. You're blushing and everything!" 

            "Hell, wasn't I embarrassed enough yesterday?!" 

            "Yes," responded Yohji with a wide smile, "But you could use a little more." He walked into the tiny, linoleum-floored bathroom and dropped Ran on the floor. Ran hissed and tried to stand up again despite the pain in certain parts of his body. Yohji left the room, cackling like mad. 

            He had shut the door and locked it from the outside. 

            _Damnit__! Why did he have to install those locks?! _

_            Ran gave a sigh. At least his clothes were here, and he was in the bathroom; he could take a shower without Yohji annoying him. Of all the people who offered to give him a home, why was that stupid flirtatious blond selected? _

            Must have been the home conditions… 

            "Oi, chibi!" Someone knocked on the door. 

            "What?" 

            "Just to tell you, hurry up. You've got another session with that guy today." 

            "Nani?! When?!" 

            "Nine. You've got awhile, but I need you to cook breakfast." 

            "Damn you…" Ran grumbled as he stripped off his pants and stepped into the shower. He flicked the handle up and to the right for hot water. A shudder ran through the pipes, and suddenly the redhead was met with a blast of freezing water. He cursed the early iciness but was quickly subdued by the hot water taking effect. 

            Not wasting any time, Ran grabbed the half empty bottle of shampoo and he Yohji shared and squirted some into his hands. 

            _Ugh, he must have put something in this. It doesn't smell right. _

_            A groan escaped his mouth as he rubbed it into his hair. If Yohji was trying to make his hair look different again, like that time he put bleach in it so he could dye Ran's hair blonde, then he'd kill Yohji. Spread his intestines to every corner of the apartment building and throw his head in the river. _

            _This doesn't smell like bleach, though…it smells kinda…fruity. _

_            He sighed and rubbed the shampoo into his eartails individually. They got pretty dirty from being by his face all the time. Ran often found his face in the dirt during P.E., which meant his eartails met the dirt, too. And it wasn't always an accident. _

            While his hair rinsed, Ran pulled out a washcloth and washed his face. He used the only soap they had in the shower – Yohji's special kind, of course. Washed the soap off, made sure his hair was totally clean, turned off the water and grabbed a towel. He dried his hair and body, wrapped the towel around his waist, and stepped out of the shower. 

            A few minutes later he was dressed and in the kitchen, cooking up breakfast for two while his hair continued to dry. It felt lighter than usual. As the eggs sizzled in the pan, he decided to talk. 

            "Ne, Yohji." 

            "Hm?" The blonde was reading the comics section of the day's newspaper. 

            "What did you put in the shampoo?" 

            "Bleach." 

            Ran whirled, spatula upraised in the manner of one holding a steak knife, preparing to kill. 

            "Oi!! Just kidding, just kidding!" Yohji nearly fell out of chair when Ran took a step closer, still holding the spatula. "It was just some shampoo of mine. It makes your hair lighter and silkier. See? Feel it." 

            Ran, still keeping Yohji at bay with the fierce spatula, rubbed his left eartail between two fingers. It did feel nicer than usual… 

            "…fine…" He turned and went back to the eggs, which were starting to leap around on the crackling pan. They flipped over on his command, aided by the spatula. Then he got to work on the toast. 

            At last breakfast was ready. Ran and Yohji sat down at 8:00 to eat. For a few minutes they ate in silence, but Yohji broke the ice after a while. 

            "So. What do you think will happen today?" 

            "Nn." Ran had gone to see Suzuhara twice after his first time. Each time he'd been a little less solid, but after last night, he didn't know what he was going to do. 

            "…that's not a valid response." 

            "I'm surprised you actually said that." 

            "Why?" 

            "Isn't it a little out of your vocabulary range?" 

            "Ooh, I'm insulted." Yohji speared an egg, which spat yellow, uncooked yolk at him. The liquid slid down the greasy white porcelain and settled in the middle of his plate. Ran watched it. 

            "Hnn…" 

            "What's wrong, chibi? Tired from last night?" 

            "…what's that supposed to mea - Yohji!!" 

            "C'mon, I heard the two of you. You were – " 

            "Don't even start!" Ran interjected, feeling his face heat up. "We didn't do anything. He got into a low mood and I was just comforting him!" 

            "By doing what? Screwing his brains out?" 

            "No!" Ran felt like ramming the fork into Yohji's head. "It wasn't like that at all! I didn't even consider doing that!" 

            "Sure you didn't." Yohji's lazy smirk seemed to proclaim, 'God's not here. How can I help you?' 

            "….You….can't…." Ran couldn't even finish his sentence. 

            "I can think what I want." For a moment, Yohji's eyes went cloudy as he imagined certain things Ran and Ken could have been doing last night. 

            "Yohji!!" 

            As abruptly as they misted they grew clear; the blonde smiled and patted Ran on the head. 

            "Don't worry, chibi. I'll keep your love a secret." 

            "You better," muttered Ran, only realizing what he'd said when Yohji burst out laughing again. 

~~~ 

            For the fourth time, Ran fingered the icy cool handle on the door leading into Suzuhara's office. Last time he'd noticed the gold plate on the door which read 'Professor Suzuhara, PHD'. 

            _Aren't those doctors? He'd wondered. Then again, they had called Suzuhara a doctor… _

            Gingerly he opened the door. Once again he was greeted with the beautiful, cool wash of blue and air conditioning. Unconsciously he inhaled, trying to take in as much lightly scented, clean air as possible. 

            "Good afternoon, Ran," said Suzuhara unexpectedly from behind the desk. "Or, really, good morning. These winter mornings come so early, don't they?" 

            "Sometimes." 

            "Well, the evenings come early, anyway." Suzuhara tapped a pencil against the desk lightly. "Why don't you have a seat?" 

            Ran closed the door behind him and sat down on the slanted couch. It was a deep red, not like blood, but more like a purple-red. Maroon. It was a comforting color. It seemed to be made of velvet; he could tell by tracing his fingers along the wrinkles of the time-worn fabric. 

            "You like the texture?" 

            "It's nice," Ran said offhandedly. "And it's not the usual color." 

            "Blood red seems to remind people of its namesake," responded Suzuhara dryly. 

            "Mm," was all Ran said. 

            "So." Again Suzuhara tapped his pencil on the desk. "Last time you came, you mentioned your family. They're no longer around, correct?" 

            "They're gone." 

            "Right. You didn't mention how or why, though. Most people don't. It's a sensitive topic." 

            Ran was silent. He stared at the couch without seeing it. 

           Ever since last night, since Ken had spilled the basis of his life, Ran had been pondering over his own days and nights. They two of them had talked all night, from those early afternoon hours to nearly 10 PM. Time hadn't seemed to matter. Ken had admitted everything that had ever happened to him, from his days as a 3 year old to the present. Everything, from his parent's death (how lonely he'd always felt) to the beginnings of the constant pain he was forced to undergo nearly every night (how much more lonely he felt after that). Ken's problems seemed small compared to Ran's, which were just blasts from the past. 

            _"Ran…what was that picture?" _

_            "What picture?" _

_            "The one with the car and the two kids…" _

_            "…that was…a part of…my life…" _

_            "Ran?" _

            Ran looked up, suddenly realizing he had been daydreaming. 

            "…sorry." 

            "It's all right." 

            "…I…" 

            "Hm?" Suzuhara looked up slightly from a pad of paper. 

            "I…when I was little…we lived in a different city." Ran stared at the floor, which stared back quite rudely. "I thought our lives were going ok, but then…" 

            _There was an explosion. The entire house rocked, and the little redhead fell to the floor. Shocked, unknowing of what he was about to find, a youthful Ran crawled to his feet and looked around in a slight daze. _

_            "N-nani…?" _

_            "Onee-san?" came the light voice like silver bells. A girl wandered in, two blue braids hanging down her back. She clutched the front of a t-shirt tightly, looking at her 14 year old brother in confusion. _

_            "Aya!" _

_            "What was that noise?" _

_            "I don't know," Ran said as he headed toward a door. "I'm going to find out, though." He grabbed the door handle. _

_            Something exploded on his palm. Ran screamed and let go of the handle, clutching his arm tightly. _

_            "Ran!" Aya said, rushing over. "What happened?!" _

_            Slowly, Ran unfurled his clenched fist. _

_            What he saw was a horrifying vision; the skin on his hand was bright red and burned, some places even black. Both children stared at it in horror. _

_            There was something hot on the other side of that door. _

_            "…Aya, get me my boken." _

_            The girl nodded and rushed off, returning minutes later with the long wooden katana that Ran treasured. He brought the sword up, then down in a powerful slashing motion with broke both sword and door alike. _

_            Behind it was a fire. _

_            A pair of crystal blue eyes and a pair of crystal amethyst eyes stared in horror at the destruction of a world they'd grown up in. Flames engulfed every inch of the ground, the walls, even the ceiling. There were no screams, no cries for help other than the crackling of paper and sizzling as cloth melted. _

_            Then, Ran broke out of his revere and tore into the flaming room. _

_            "Ran!" screamed his little sister, wanting to grab him but not wanting to chase. After all, the room had gone up in flames, and if he didn't get out of there soon, so would he… _

_            The young redhead, still clutching the lower half of his broken sword, raced through the room, not caring that flames licked at his arms and legs, scarring him for life. He knew where his parents had to be, where they were going to be. Ran grabbed the handle of the next door, not caring about the heat, and looked in. _

_            There, lying on the ground was his mother, her hair engulfed in a crown of flame like the bandanas she so often wore. The fire had torn across her pale white skin, ripping it open like it was **plastic and burning it just like ****plastic, leaving curling, blackened edges where the flesh had ****melted into her face. And her eyes were ****gone; the sockets were empty pits with fire leaping out of them like it was a ****portal to hell that had been torn open by some demon that was laughing at the carnage it had caused. Her arms had been burnt down to the ****bone; what should normally be white was already blackened from the scorching heat that now caressed Ran's face and body. **_

_            Then there was his father, his strong, muscular father, who was now sizzling like a **pig on the spit. His arms had ****split open along the lines of his muscles and his veins had ****burst like a too-full hose, sending blood everywhere, staining the walls so much it looked like a bad paint job. As Ran stared, something else ****exploded with a sound like a gunshot, but whether it was organic or not didn't matter anymore. A piece of the ceiling had fallen on his father and severed him in half at the waist, and Ran could see the intestines ****spilling out because there was nothing left to hold them back. Half of his father's face was ****gone, ripped off like the claws of a demon had grabbed hold and pulled, leaving behind a twisted mask of ****bones and ****liquefied brain. The brain which dribbled out of the ****empty eye sockets like it was nothing more than ****water trickling over a rock. **_

_            So horrified by the sight in front of him, Ran couldn't feel the pain of the flames that seared his arms and legs. Had he been younger, or even older, his sanity might have slipped away with a whisper and smile, but he was 14, at an age where everything is just starting to take hold. _

_            "Ran…" _

_            His name, whispered through the flames. _

_            "Ran…" _

_            His name, which he did not hear. _

_            "Ran!" _

_            His name, screamed in desperation for him to hear and come. _

_            "Ran, onee-chan! Run! Please! The roof – it's falling!" _

_            A plea for help. _

_            Ran broke out of his shock, turned, and ran for his life. The explosion he'd heard before was the sound of the solid ceiling above him starting to fall in. He left the room as quickly as he'd come in, images still dancing in his mind's eye. Snatching up Aya and leaving the house was the only thing he was able to do. _

_            Once they were on the watery pavement, Aya screamed and shoved Ran on the ground. His head connected last, and he wondered why she was doing this. Only when she told him to roll did he realize that he was on fire. _

_            Minutes later, he was out. Both children sat on the ground and stared as the flames enveloped their life. Aya was crying silently. Ran was staring, staring, staring at the world he'd thought would be his forever. _

_            "Onee-chan…what now…?" _

_            "…mom and dad…they're dead…" _

_            Aya took the news better than her brother had, and only nodded. Still crying. _

_            "What will we do, Ran?" _

_            "…leave." _

_            It seemed like the right thing to do. Go to the police, tell them what happened, and then leave. Have a funeral, of course; the two children discussed this lightly until they heard the screech of a car coming to a dead halt next to them. _

_            Someone jumped out. Ran couldn't tell who, but their face was twisted with anger and cruelty. They weren't worried. This wasn't a passerby who was horrified by a flaming house with two children in the front. _

_            This had to be the person who caused the explosion in the first place. _

_            Ran leapt up and seized his sister. They disappeared into the shadows, but footsteps followed them. _

            _"Damn you! I'll kill you!" _

_            "Get back here! You can't run forever. You can't hide at all!" _

_            Aya clung to her brother tightly. Ran stared through the cracks in the bags of trash, unaware that the huge blisters on his arms had begun to seep with blood and pus._

_            "I'll find you, and you'll pay." _

_            "You'll scream like you've never screamed before!" _

_            Ran tugged gently on his sister's arm. They had to move. _

_            "I don't care if the cops come. I'll get my revenge." _

_            "There you are!!" _

_            The person stood over them, hidden behind the bags of garbage. Face shadowed face gone fire burning people screaming. _

_            Ran seized Aya and the two of them ran, ran, ran ran ran. The person tried to chase them. _

_            "Go on! Run! Run, you little bastard! You can't get away from me!" _

_            "I'll catch you. I'll run you down and make you pay!" _

_            Suddenly, there was no one behind them. The two stopped and glanced around. Where was their pursuer? _

_            "Aya, go. Please go. Get to the police," urged Ran. _

_            "Ran…" _

_            For a moment, their eyes locked. It was as if they knew this would be their last moment together, their last moment -alive- together. _

_            The moment passed, and Aya slipped from her brother's arms and took off down the street. Just as she did, however, there came the sound of a car barreling down the street, tires screeching. Ran whipped around _

_            and found himself face to face with the neon headlights of a car. His eyes grew wide in that instant. Death's slimy hands reached out for his face. He couldn't move. _

_            Something hit his side. He staggered out of the path of the car only to see _

_            "AYA!" _

_            Wham. _

_            Ran clung tightly to his legs. Tears streamed down his face. One hand clutched his skull like it was the last thing left in the world that belonged to him. Suzuhara was sitting next to him, trying to get him to calm down. _

            "Ran. Ran." 

            "She…she pushed me out of the way…she was killed…because of me…because I wouldn't move…" 

            "You were terrified! It wasn't your fault, Ran." 

            "I could have moved…I…I could have…" 

            "Ran, sshh. Calm down. Relax." Ran slowly stopped clutching his head so tightly and ceased rocking. 

            "She…she died because…of me…" 

            "Ran, it wasn't entirely your fault. You could have moved, but you were scared." A hand gently massaged the back of Ran's neck. "Anybody would be frozen with fear if they had just seen what you had." 

            "Like a deer in headlights," responded the redhead bitterly. He withdrew his hand from where it had been on his head and stared at the few long hairs that were tangled in his fingers. 

            "That's a crude example, but true." Suzuhara stood up and went back to his computer. "Would you like me to call your friend for you? You can stay here until he comes." 

            "…sure." Ran felt a little better at that. He didn't know what he'd do if he was alone out there. 

            Within ten minutes Yohji was at the door, panting heavily. _He must have really run up the stairs, Ran thought. _

            "Emergency?" coughed the blonde. 

            "Yes…I need to talk to you." Suzuhara took a confused Yohji outside and shut the door most of the way. The two talked in low voices which Ran could not hear. Instead of trying to eavesdrop, Ran lay on his back on the couch and stared at the plaster ceiling. It looked nothing like the one from home. 

            Home. 

            Yohji reentered the room, looking pale, but not nearly as pale as Ran. He walked over to the redhead and offered him a hand. 

            "Let's go home, kiddo." 

            "…yeah." 

            The two walked from the office, Suzuhara scheduling another appointment for Ran in a little less than a week. 


	16. Fire and Blood

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki-san 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you have heard of, doesn't. 

            _"Ran…why do you always wear long sleeves and jeans?" _

_            "I just do." _

_            "Why don't I believe that?" _

_            "…it's…not important." _

_            "I don't believe that, either." _

_            "C'mon, Ken, leave it alone." _

_            "There has to be a reason. Even I wear t-shirts on occasion." _

_            "You usually wear t-shirts." _

_            "You don't pay close attention to me, do you…" _

An annoyingly loud and repetitive screech came from Ran's alarm clock, disrupting a memory in the form of a dream. He reached out one hand, groped along his bedtable for the offending machine, and when he found it, smashed his fist into the snooze button. It sent the room into blessed silence. 

            Ran rolled onto his side and pulled the blankets up higher around his shoulders. It was cold, and he had no desire to freeze to death in his own room. His bed was warm. That was enough for him. 

            Sunlight filtered through murky clouds outside his window; mist floated down into the city and a haze of rain appeared over the buildings. It was light rain, but the droplets were large enough to disturb Ran's sleep and force him to peer over the edge of his blankets to see what was going on. 

            He stared at the clouds. Today was starting out badly, and chances are it would get worse. Yesterday had been bad enough. Spilling his guts about his past to some stupid psychiatrist…he let his body drop into its original position and stared at the plaster ceiling. 

            From the living room came the sound of silence; from Yohji's room, the same. Either the playboy was still out partying or he was sleeping in the kitchen. What time was it, anyway? Ran glanced at the satanic red numbers of his alarm clock. 

            7:34 in the morning. 

            He swore slightly and dragged the sheets over his head. No way was he getting up this early. Why was his alarm set, anyway? Probably reflex. He'd been unaware of the world around him when he'd come home the day before; there was a chance he'd set his alarm before sliding under the sheets and going to bed. 

            So he'd been asleep since 3 PM the previous day… 

            Ran attempted to go back to sleep, but it evaded him cleverly. If he wanted to sleep, he'd have to think about something. Or someone. And the first person who came to mind was Ken. 

            Ken…hadn't he just been dreaming about the brunette? Dreaming or remembering. There wasn't much difference to Ran. They usually replaced each other, going from reality to dizzy hallucination and back again. 

            Still… 

            He gently ran one hand along his bare chest. As he reached his lower stomach, small indents and bumps reminded him of the painful encounter he'd had with fire earlier in his life. He moved his hand up out of the blankets and gazed at the numerous faded black and red burn scars that decorated his forearm. 

            It was funny how they seemed to make a pattern along his skin. The places were the fire had made original contact seemed to always be at his wrist. He looked along the swirling, cracked patterns on his skin. They seemed so fresh and new. Hadn't he gained these three years ago, along with an unhealthy level of insanity? 

            Slowly he placed his arm back under the sheets. It was time to sleep, and sleep was always good… 

            As he drifted into the inevitable, Ran felt an odd pain in the left half of his face. He pushed it aside and let himself be swallowed by the darkness. Maybe when he woke up he would go to the mall… 

~~~ 

            Ken's eyes slowly opened, and as soon as they did so he winced and shut them again. His left eye was blackened, and opening it was a painful ordeal. Even moving it hurt. Touching it was completely out of the question. 

            He cringed inwardly as he remembered the amount of abuse dealt on him the night before last…when he'd come home at nearly 10:30 that night, still dizzy from his long hours spent lying in Ran's arms, talking about his life in general and trying to get Ran to open up a little, he hadn't remembered his promise to be home before dinner. So he'd been totally unprepared for the physical assault on his body that occurred shortly after he walked in the door. 

            Slowly, Ken raised himself off the bed and kicked the blankets away. His legs ached fiercely at the effort. Cautiously he stood up and walked across the room to the bathroom. He was blinded momentarily by the brightness of the light, but when he recovered, he made his way to the mirror over the sink. 

           What greeted him was an unfamiliar face; a massive bruise spanned the whole of his left cheek and eye, the first blow. On the right half of his face was a cut from where he'd been backhanded by a ringed hand multiple times. His neck was ringed with bruises and dark marks. More bruises littered his upper body, and there were a few bite marks on his body. Mostly bruises, though. 

            Ken sighed and coughed violently. Even his lungs hurt. His mouth and throat were dry. He turned on the water in the sink, washed his hands, then cupped his fingers to gather water. His body thanked him when he swallowed the water. This happened several times, until his mouth felt better and his throat didn't sting so much. 

            Almost casually, he slid one damp hand into his pants and massaged a bruised spot on his inner thigh. It had been there since God knows how long, and it was getting bigger every day. He grimaced slightly. Soon it would be all along his leg, and would affect his soccer playing skills. Somebody would notice then… 

            Somebody other than Ran. 

            Ran. 

            The name of a man with violet eyes. 

            Eyes that grabbed and held, that stole and wouldn't let go. Eyes that hid so much pain. Ken could see it, even if Ran tried to keep it a secret. Something…something had happened to Ran. Something with such terrible force that it drove the redhead to keep every moment of his life inside his head. 

            Wouldn't that make him insane? 

            Insane, or just reclusive, his logic countered. Ran wasn't crazy. Not like his guardian, he thought bitterly. Thankfully, the older man was out, and Ken could speak his thoughts without fear of getting caught. 

            As for that…Ken headed out of the bathroom and back into his room. He picked out a clean pair of pants and a shirt, put them on, and headed out into the kitchen to get some breakfast. He was hungry, after all, seeing has he hadn't eaten anything since lunch two days ago. There wasn't much left; he assumed his guardian was out getting food, so he just ate what there was. 

            After that was done, he stared out the window at the faded tops of the buildings in the city. Mist was covering them like a crown. Cars were locked in a traffic jam; the parking lot of the nearby mall was half full. 

            The mall? 

            Ken considered. He hadn't been told to stay home, and it was an easy walk. If he wore a turtleneck and used something to cover the bruise…it would look like a soccer injury. 

            For once, he was glad that soccer balls were deadly. Carefully, so as not to reopen any wounds, Ken headed back into his room and changed into normal clothes. A red turtleneck with long sleeves, jeans, and a little something on his face to make the bruises less obvious – if it could be done. 

            He looked at his face one more time in the mirror and sighed. The cuts couldn't be passed off as a soccer injury. Maybe…maybe he could say he'd gotten into a fight after the game and been punched? It worked. Sort of. 

            Ken shook his head slightly, grabbed his coat, and left the house, leaving a short note and locking the door behind him. So what if his guardian got mad at him for leaving? There wasn't anything he could do about it. Ken let the tiniest of rebellious smiles creep onto his face as he stepped into the icy air of the outside world. 

            Outside, the fog seemed to span in every direction but right where he was. As he walked, the fog parted and let him pass into a clearer sight, but just ahead of him was never there. Like something he wanted but couldn't reach, no matter how far he stretched his arm, or how fast he ran, or how high he jumped. 

            Kind of like someone who you like but you're not sure if they like you back. 

            Ken stopped thinking, then reprimanded himself for thinking of Ran at a time like this. The older man hadn't been part of his thoughts since the dream the night he'd come home and received the vicious beating. In the dream, he'd been trapped in a deep hole. There were huge crowds walking by the hole, but even though he was screaming and screaming for help, no one even looked down. 

            Then, Ran had stepped up to the edge of the hole and crouched down; he'd held out his hand to Ken, waiting to help him out. Ken had been so ecstatic to see Ran helping him that he'd leapt up and reached out to take the hand. 

            But his hand went right through his love's like it was smoke. 

            Ran was still waiting, and Ken kept trying to get out, but every single time he touched Ran his hand turned to something translucent. He tried to tell Ran what was going on, but he couldn't speak. Then the world turned upsideown, and suddenly he was among the crowds, staring down at Ran, who was trapped in the hole he had been in only seconds before. 

            Our places are the same, Ran had said in a voice that wasn't his own. And yet they are completely different. 

            Then Ken had woken up. Thus the day had begun, and - 

            Without warning he ran into a lamppost. 

            Ken blinked furiously and stepped back. A few kids who were also headed to the mall snickered at his blind idiocy. So caught up in his thoughts, Ken had neglected to realize where he was walking. Fortunately he'd gone in a straight line. Recovering his dignity, Ken stepped away from the post and headed for the doors of the mall, which were a short distance away. 

            Inside the mall was warmer than outside by a difference of 20 degrees, Ken thought, taking off his coat and wishing that he hadn't been beaten so badly that he had to wear the long-sleeved shirt. He sighed and fished around in his pocket for money. Yes, he'd grabbed some; not much, but enough for lunch, and maybe for a little something else. 

            What time was it? He glanced at the clock in the center of the food court, which was where he'd come in. It read 9:33 in the morning. Most of the stores would open soon. Ken walked over to a chair in the food court and sat down to wait and count his money. 

            He dumped a handful of coins and bills onto the two-person table, catching a few that strayed and headed for the table's edges. Carefully he counted, first the bills, then the coins. When he was done, he sighed again. This was hardly enough to buy a decent lunch. Why hadn't he grabbed more? 

            Ken stuffed all the cash back into his pocket and folded his arms on the table. He rested his head on his arms, looking at the few others that were in and around the food court. A girl was opening a fast food place for the day; a man who looked about 40 was cleaning off tables with a sullen expression. A couple sauntered in and looked around, briefly glancing at him. They looked so happy together. A boy and a girl, dressed in the latest fashions, with wallets full of money. 

            It was ironic, Ken thought, that he should be exactly like that lucky guy but was farther from it than anybody else. 

            A loud clang behind him alerted Ken to the opening of a store. 10 on Sundays, 8 on Saturdays, 7 on Mondays through Fridays, holidays varying. Maybe he could take a walk all the way around the mall five times. It might do him good. Or possibly make his wounds worse, but that didn't matter anymore. 

            Ken slowly got up and started walking. He walked by store windows that were advertising everything, from food to toys to clothes to unmentionable things. Several times a storekeeper would call to him from inside, asking him to come on in and look around. Kids here this early? Easy deals! 

            Ken walked on by. 

            At one point he reached a sports store that was advertising merchandise for his favorite team. He longingly admired the stuff in the window, but knew he could never have anything. It was a depressing feeling, to be so close and yet so far. 

            Like the dream. 

            Ken shook himself mentally. No! He wouldn't remember that dream or Ran right now. He wasn't attached to Ran in any way. 

            Unfortunately, that wasn't true, and he knew it. The way he'd traced his fingers along Ran's hands that one night proved it, and the way Ran had spoken to him so softly helped. 

            Not to mention the way he'd run his hands along Ken's body… 

            Ken felt himself blushing at the memory. It had been slightly more than just a turn-on to be lying in the lap of the man he was in love with, and having other things happen was…really…romantic…if that was the word. 

            He continued walking down across the tiled floor of the mall, wondering when he should head back home, until he came to a bench. It was empty, and the crowds were beginning to make their way in, so he sat down and shut his eyes. 

            Something stopped him, though; a familiar voice called his name down the hall, and suddenly someone was standing in front of him. Two people, actually. 

            "Ken-kun!" said Omi, smiling happily. "I wondered when I'd see you again!" 

            Standing behind him was Nagi, who asked all too calmly, "What happened to your face?" 

            "Oh…I was playing soccer and…got hit with the ball." He grinned weakly, trying to enforce the lie. 

            "Ah," responded the quiet brunette. 

            "Owww," Omi said, wincing. "That really must have hurt! You have to put up with a lot of pain, don't you, Ken-kun?" 

            "Yeah." 

            "I could never do that. I don't like pain." Omi kept going for a few minutes, jumping from subject to subject without really noticing it. Ken started when he heard Omi say, "I hope the school isn't closed for too long, though." 

            "Huh? Did something happen?" 

            "Yeah," Omi said, blinking at him. "Didn't you hear about it? Something happened at school. They say someone died or something, but they weren't giving out any details. Right, Nagi?" 

            "They said it was a murder," responded Nagi nonchalantly. 

            "Oh." Ken shivered. "That sounds terrible." 

           "Yeah, but we don't know who it was. Well, anyway, we need to get going. See you!" And with that Omi was gone, Nagi following him like a silent shadow. 

            Ken stared after them for a moment before closing his eyes again. 

            Blackness held him for a few minutes, and he felt himself starting to drift off when a voice cut into his exhaustion. 

            "Ken?" 

            His eyes opened. 

            There was Ran. 

            Instantly his heart rate sped up. Ran was standing a few inches away to his left, giving Ken the tiniest of smiles. He…still…liked Ken. 

            However, his gaze traveled to the huge bruise on Ken's face, and the smile dropped. It was replaced with a look of icy rage that was all too familiar to Ken. 

            "Ran…" 

            "Who did it?" The redhead sat down next to him. Ken shifted away, trying to hide his face. 

            "It was…I got hit with a soccer ball during practice." 

            "There's no practice on Fridays or Saturdays, Ken." 

            Caught. 

            "I…" Ken stumbled with his words. Ran reached over and just barely touched the bruise. 

            "Can you even see out of that eye?" 

            "Yes…" 

            "What happened, then? Tell me." Ran pulled his hand back and glared at Ken. Ken tried to glare back, but the look was so fierce he could hardly meet the other man's gaze. 

            "It was…it wasn't anything important," he lied. 

            "Try again." 

            "I'm serious. It's not important." 

            "I don't believe you." 

            "Ran, drop it." He surprised himself with the force of the words. 

            "Ken," snapped Ran, "tell me." Then his tone softened. "I don't want you to get hurt, but something must have happened. And don't tell me you ran into a lamppost." 

            "Actually, that happened on the way here." 

            "…and that's the cause of the bruise?" 

            "…yeah. Yes, that's it." 

            Ran snorted. "That's a lie, Ken, and you know it. First you said it was practice, then you say it's not important. Now it's a lamppost?" 

            Ken was silent. 

            "…just tell me." Ran's voice was soft again. 

            "I…when I went to your house that night…I…left kind of late…I forgot I was supposed to be home for dinner…" 

            Ran's eyes widened as the realization dawned on him, and Ken heard him say, "Oh…shit…" very softly. 

            "…I guess it was kind of important for me to have been home that night." 

            It was Ran's turn to be silent. The two of them sat without speaking for at least five minutes. 

            Then: 

            "I'm sorry." 

            "What?" Ken snapped out of his dazed state to look at Ran. 

            "I'm sorry." 

            "…what for?" 

            "I kept you late that night. It was my fault you got home late." 

            "What? No it isn't. I wasn't watching the clock. It was my fault." 

            "Same here. I could have been watching it. I was with you when you told him you'd be home for dinner." 

            "But…" Ken sought the right words. "Really, Ran, I told him I'd be home, and lost track of time." 

            "Did he even listen?" 

            "No." 

            "What all happened?" 

            Ken winced; he hadn't wanted Ran to ask that question. 

            "…I just got beat up a lot…" 

            "Are the bruises under your shirt?" 

            "Yes…" 

            "Then you're coming home with me." 

            "What?!" Ken's voice cracked. "I can't! I didn't…I can't…I…" 

            "Why not?" Ran raised an eyebrow. "Did you say you'd only be gone a little while?" 

            "No…but…I just…can't." 

            "You're coming," said Ran, as if it were final. Ken continued to protest, but nothing seemed to change Ran's mind even the tiniest bit. He stood up and seized Ken. 

            "No! Ran, please! You can't do this!" 

            "Ken, calm down. If you don't get medical attention, god knows what could happen." 

            "Medical attention?!" Ken felt near hysteria. "It's just a bunch of bruises and a couple cuts!" 

            The look Ran gave him shut him up, and he let himself be dragged down the mall and out into the streets. He was angry and felt helpless, yet somehow relieved at the same time. Someone actually cared about him enough to want to help him. 

            But what if Ran found out about the other wounds…? 

            He found himself looking up at the twelve story apartment building Ran lived in for the second time. It was a brick building, he realized as he was pulled through the front door. Back up the flights of stairs, back into the apartment where Ran spent his days. 

            "Back so soon, Ran?" called a sleepy voice from the living room. Ken tried to hide behind Ran and maybe back out the door, but Ran shut it firmly and directed Ken into his room. 

            "Just a minute, Ken." He disappeared into the living room, and shortly after he could hear low voices. One cold, one disbelieving. He could tell which belonged to who just by the tones. 

            After a minute or two, Ran returned, holding what looked like bandages and some sort of salve. He came into the room and shut the door behind him. 

            "On the bed," he instructed. 

            Ken sighed and sat down. Ran followed suit. 

            "Take off your shirt." 

            "Do I have to…?" 

            "Yes." 

            Ken sighed and pulled off the turtleneck. He heard a hiss come from Ran as he did so. 

            "Those are nasty bruises, Ken. And…they're not all bruises." He felt a featherlight touch on his skin, making it tingle. 

            "…I know." 

            "This will feel cold." Something icy touched a bruise, and he bit his lip to keep from cursing. Ran's fingers gently smoothed the salve over one massive bruise before bandaging it. He did that for every bruise before cleaning the cuts from various objects and bandaging those, too. After a short time, he came to Ken's waist. 

            "Take off your pants." 

            "No!" 

            "Ken…" 

            "No." 

            "You have to." 

            "No way in hell." 

            "Why? Don't want me to see your boxers?" 

            "No, that's not it!" 

            Ran raised an eyebrow, and Ken cursed himself mentally. That was an easy way out of taking off his pants and he'd missed it completely. No, he wasn't afraid of Ran seeing his boxers; it was the wounds in certain places he didn't want Ran to see. 

            "So what is it?" 

            "…nothing." Ken looked away. 

            Without warning, Ran dropped what he was holding and almost tackled Ken, pinning his unwary victim to the bed. Ken yelped as the redhead straddled him, holding Ken's wrists in his hands. The two looked at each other. 

            Then Ken started squirming. 

            "Ack! Get off me!" 

            Ran made no response, but rather grabbed both of Ken's wrists in one hand and shifted down so he was sitting on Ken's legs. With his free hand he worked the button on Ken's jeans. Ken felt the blood rise to his face along with a surge of panic. 

            "No! Ran, stop!" He twisted and fought, trying to break free of the stone grip Ran had on him. "Please! Don't!" 

            Ran didn't heed him. He yanked Ken's jeans down to his knees, repositioned himself, and released Ken's wrists. Immediately Ken lunged to shove Ran off him, but the door opened just then. 

            Yohji peered in. 

            All action stopped dead. 

            "…I knew it." 

            "You heard me before, Yohji," Ran said in a slightly embarrassed tone. "I have to take care of the bruises, and…" 

            "I understand," said the half grinning blonde. "But do you two have any idea what that sounded like from where I was?" 

            Silence. 

            "…oh, Christ," said Ran, his shoulders slumping. Ken only had the urge to strangle the blushing redhead, but all the blood had gone to his head and his arms wouldn't respond. 

            "Anyway, you two keep at it." Yohji winked, and Ran reached for the bandages. "Or do you need my help?" 

            Ran glanced at Ken, who gave him a horrified look. 

            "…No." 

            "Ah, well…call if you do." The door shut, and Yohji was gone. 

            "Nice going, Ken," muttered Ran. 

            "Hey, it wasn't my fault! If you hadn't tackled me…" 

            "I had to. You wouldn't take off your pants." 

            "Am I supposed to?!" 

            "What reason do you have no to?" 

            "I don't want…just…I don't want to." Ken glared at Ran from his position on the bed. 

            Ran said nothing, but glanced down at Ken's waist, where there was the fading bruise from the previous week. Gently he touched it, so lightly that Ken didn't notice it at first. 

            He did notice, however, when Ran took hold of the edge of his boxers and started pulling them down. 

            "No." 

            Ran stopped and looked at Ken. 

            "Ken, from what you told me, there are bound to be bruises under this." 

            _Bruises and worse, Ken thought. _

            "Don't. Just…don't." 

            "I have to." And once again, Ran pulled on the fabric. 

            Ken swore and tried to grab Ran's arms to keep him from seeing anything, but it was too late. The redhead saw the bruises, the cuts, and the blood. 

            Silence followed this. Then Ran released Ken, leaning back, and Ken took advantage of the situation to pull his boxers back up. 

            "…Ken…what did he…do…?" Ran couldn't even finish the question. Ken looked away and leaned on his elbow. 

            "…just what you saw." 

           Again there was silence, but abruptly Ran wrapped his arms around Ken's upper body and pulled the brunette close. Ken was shocked by the act and even more shocked when he heard Ran's voice, which was choked. 

            "I'm sorry." 


	17. Meaningless Nothing

Amor Fictus

Written by Sakki 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you have heard of, doesn't. 

            "House of Pizza, how may I help you?" 

            "Uh…is Ran there?" 

            Yohji stopped flipping the pages of his latest magazine and gave a look to the telephone balanced cautiously between his ear and his shoulder. 

            "Ran? Yeah, why?" 

            "Er, can I talk to him?" 

            "Sure. Who is it?" 

            "Ken." 

            "Ah, right…hold on." The blonde dropped his magazine, covered the receiver of the phone, and hollered down the hall. 

            "OI!" 

           The resulting thump and string of curses that would make any sailor proud assured Yohji that Ran was indeed awake. 

            "What?!" 

            "You've got a phone call." 

            Silence. Then Ran came into the room and glowered at his blonde roommate. 

            "Who is it?" 

            "Your boyfriend."   
            "But – Yohji!" Ran snatched the phone from the older man's hands and turned away. He could still hear snickering. 

            "Hello?" 

            "Ran?" 

            It was Ken. The first phone call Ran had gotten in years. He could hardly believe he was actually holding the plastic thing. 

            "Hello? Ran? Is it you?" 

            "Yeah, it's me." 

            "Good. Hey, um, I was wondering if you wanted to go down to that school dance thing later tonight." 

            Ran was silent. 

            The 'school dance thing' was basically the equivalent of a school dance, just not held in the school. It was at a club who volunteered to give the students a night every so often just to dance and be casual. Ran had never gone to one because 1) It didn't interest him and 2) because Yohji wanted him to go. 

            But this was Ken asking him. 

            "Um…I've never…been to one." 

            "I went to a couple with the soccer team. It's not that bad. C'mon, I don't want to be alone." 

            "I'd…" Ran's insides squirmed. "I'd really like to, Ken, but are you sure your guardian will let you?" 

            The two of them said nothing. After the incident with Ran finding out about Ken's injuries, Ran had been very careful about what he said and when they got together. It was obvious that he cared about the brunette, and not just in a brotherly way. 

            "…well…I already asked him…he said it…he thinks I'm going with the soccer team." 

            "Oh." 

            "It's ok, don't worry, really," Ken said, suddenly rushed. "Nobody ever comes to my place, so it's not like he expects anybody to come in with me or come get me. It's ok, Ran. So will you go?" 

            "I…" 

            Something hit the back of Ran's head. He turned around to see Yohji listening in through the kitchen phone, holding a handful of popcorn, and grinning. Ran only gave him a deadly glare. 

            "…Sure. Where should I meet you?" 

            "At the corner near the mall, where there's a lamppost. Are you ok with that?" 

            "Yeah. Yeah, that's fine." 

            Yohji pumped his fist into the air. 

            "It starts at 6, so we can meet there about 6:45. Ok?" 

            "That's good. Hey, Ken? I have to go. There's something that demands my immediate attention." 

            "Um, all right…see you later, then." 

            Ran hung up the phone and turned to Yohji, who had gone back into the kitchen for some more popcorn.  

~~~ 

            _That was wholly too satisfying, Ran thought to himself as he walked down the streets of the city bathed in dying sunlight. His trenchcoat billowed out behind him – possibly the only aspect Ran liked about it. _

            After beating Yohji into a bloody pulp on the ground, Ran had allowed the blonde to put him in something more…'trendy', as it had been so neatly put. A black sleeveless shirt and low-rider jeans, accompanied by some combat boots and a trenchcoat were his selection. Now Ran was actually wearing those things. 

            "They make you look badass. But this would make you look even more badass," Yohji had claimed, handing Ran the only thing he actually had to force his younger roommate to wear. 

            A spiked collar. 

            A spiked dog collar at that. 

            Ran had never felt so humiliated in his entire life. 

            Unfortunately, it was on; Yohji had that undeniable strength one gained from sleeping with so many people. Ran cursed the man's ability to bend himself in…ways…like that. 

            The mall approached with surprising speed. Ran found himself standing next to the lamppost on the corner of two intersecting streets. There was nobody around. Casually, he checked his watch. 

            It read 6:40. 

            He sighed and leaned against the metal post, which was giving off a sickly orange light at the top. It didn't do much for illumination. That was why Ran didn't see the girls until they were on top of him. 

            "Hey, handsome," one purred, leaning in close to him. Her breath smelled like alcohol and her clothes were ruffled. "Wanna come with us?" 

            "We've been looking all night for someone like you," said a second, who was dressed in something Ran saw only in Yohji's magazines. 

            "We wondered if you'd be kind enough as to help us with something." 

            Four of them crowded around him, not allowing him any form of escape. The redhead's nervousness grew, but he managed to keep his stone cold façade on. 

            "I'm not interested." 

            "Oh, you're soooo lying!" One of the girls pressed her body up against him, and even Ran couldn't stop himself from blushing at the feeling he got through her shirt. 

            "I said I'm not interested." 

            "He's blushing!" 

            "He must be drunk." 

            "Let's bring him home!" 

            "I wanna keep him as a pet!" 

            "No, I wanna!" 

            If anyone's drunk, it's you four, he thought briefly. As the girls debated over who got to bring him home, Ran caught a glimpse of something heading in his direction from another street. Upon closer inspection, it was a brunette kid wearing a fake leather jacket and jeans. 

            "Ken?" 

            The kid looked up. 

            "Ken! Help!" 

            It was Ken, but just as Ran was hoping he'd get some help, the brunette burst out laughing and slumped against the side of the mall. Ran glowered. _Oh, you're really amused by this, aren't you? Yeah, just you laugh…I'll make you pay. _

The girls caught sight of Ken and pouted. 

            "Man, he's cute too!" 

            "Why did this guy say his name?" 

            "You think they're lovers?" 

            "Awww! That so figures!" 

            "All the cute guys are gay!" 

            "I am not!" snapped Ran instinctively. The girls whimpered and one pawed at his face. 

            "Oh, good, then you'll come with uss, won't youuuu?" 

            "No. Get away from me." Ran shoved her aside and stalked toward Ken, who was still laughing against the wall. He didn't stop even when Ran grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the ground. 

            "Oh my God…that was too good…" 

            "Shut up, Ken." 

            "You were being offered….God!" Ken exploded into another fit of laughter. Ran growled, mostly because he knew that if Yohji had seen that, he would be doing the exact same thing. 

            "Would you knock it off?" 

            "I…" Laughter. "I want to…" Laughter again. "…but I can't…" Even more laughing. "…stop myself!" 

            Ran held Ken up against the wall for a few minutes before the brunette's laughter subsided. 

            "Why was it so funny?" 

            "Mostly your expressions…but the whole idea in general. Of you sleeping with somebody." A grin crossed Ken's face. "Could you put me down? My neck is starting to hurt." 

            Ran slowly dropped Ken and looked down at him. As Ken straightened his jacket, Ran watched every move: how Ken only used three fingers to brush the wrinkles away, how he tossed his hair out of his eyes, the way he glanced up and down the street with his arms folded across his chest. 

            "Ready to go?" 

            "Mm." The two of them started off down the street. They were quiet for awhile. 

            Then: 

            "So why are you wearing a spiked dog collar?" 

            "What – I'm not – It was Yohji's idea!" 

            Ken snickered. "And you actually let him do it?" 

            "He had to force it on me!" 

            "Right. I believe you." Ken grinned deviously. "And I suppose he forced those clothes on you, too." 

            "Partially. I agreed to put them on." 

            "You actually agreed to something?" 

            One glare was sent the brunette's direction. "I beat him into a pinkish, bloody mass on the kitchen floor." 

            "Oh, so that's what was so important…" 

            Again they fell silent. After a few minutes of walking, he felt a slight throbbing in his feet. Then it moved up into his legs, and when they finally turned the corner to the club, Ran realized that it wasn't just soreness he felt. 

            It was the bass of the music in the club. 

            The thing was massive in front of him; he looked at the neon glowing sign, which said 'Lightz Tailz' in massive red letters. The windows were dull and black, one even boarded up, and there was a large, muscled man standing in the doorway. 

            Ran bit the inside of his lip. Hard. 

            "Uh…Ken…I don't…" 

            "Have a ticket? That's ok. I got two." Ken grinned and held up two white slips of paper. "I didn't expect you to buy one." 

            "I'm…so glad you know me that well." 

            The two of them approached the seven-foot-something human barricade that separated them from the club. 

            "Do you kids have tickets?" 

            "Yeah. Two, please," Ken said. 

            "You got your school ID's?" 

            Ran's mouth went dry. His ID was in his other pair of pants. He slid one hand down into his pocket. 

            "Here's mine." Ken held his out. "Ran? You got yours?" 

            "Yeah." _Ok, Yohji, you win. The blonde had hidden the ID in Ran's pocket. _

           "Hm…alright, you kids can go in. Be careful." The man handed back their IDs and their ticket stubs and stood aside. They walked in the door and headed down a flight of stairs, down a hall, and through one more door. 

            Ran almost collapsed. 

            A fresh wave of music slammed into his body, the bass chords trembling along his very bones. The bright lights flashed in his face and under him; the ever-changing colored floor flashed in time to the beats of the tune around it. At least two hundred people were dancing in all styles on the floor, on the tables, on the balconies high above them. Glowing red lights illuminated the stage where a DJ worked his records and CDs into overdrive. The heat was intense and only fueled by the increasing amount of bodies in the room. 

            Ken's latched onto Ran's arm tightly. 

            "God…it's…_packed…" _

            "I didn't think you'd notice!" They had to yell to hear each other over the noise. Ran looked up into the above balcony to see what he could. He was starting to feel drops of perspiration slide down his sides already, and the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat was making him dizzy. 

            "Come on! Let's go to the bar!" Ken pulled Ran in the direction of the glowing bar. Ran tripped a few times, but managed to get to the edge of the metal contraption without hurting himself. 

            "What'll ya have?" said the girl standing behind the bar. She had bright blue hair – no, now it was green – no, now it was red. Ran decided that she had white hair and it was changing color with the lights. In any case, she had too much makeup on and an array of clothes that made Ran not want to look anywhere below her face. 

            "Just a soda," Ken told her. "Ran? You want something?" 

            "Uh…the same." 

            "What?" 

            "I said the same thing!" 

            "Okay. Two sodas." 

            "Gotcha, KenKen." The girl moved to get their drinks. Ran looked at Ken oddly. 

            "What?" The brunette shrugged. "Like I said, I'm down here with the team sometimes. They make sure people know who I am." 

            "But…KenKen?" 

            "It's a nickname." 

            "I figured." 

            The girl returned with their sodas, and Ran took his in one hand. It felt good against his palm, ice cold and dripping water. He pulled the tab and took a long drink. Ken did the same. 

            For awhile, they watched the groups of bodies pulse with the music. Girls and boys alike gyrated wherever they could find a separate place; couples danced wildly; people threw themselves across the flashing dance floor. More than once did a crash occur and a fight broke out. These occasions were quickly quelled by the massive bouncers who threw kids out more than once. 

            The heat eventually seeped deep into Ran's body, and he was forced to take off his trenchcoat. He caught Ken staring at his bared arms, which were marred by the old burn marks. But in the changing lights those scars were almost invisible. 

            "Ran…you…I never saw…you've got…" 

            The redhead sighed and waited for the usual remark that came with people seeing his scars. 

            "…you've got some nice muscles." 

            Ran stared at Ken. 

            "What…did you say?" 

            "You've got nice muscles. Do you work out at all?" 

            "No…" 

            "You're lucky, then. Most people don't have these kinds of muscles naturally." Ken leaned forward a little. "They're not too big, but you don't look wimpy…" 

            "I'm flattered." 

            "What are these?" Ken frowned and ran a finger along some of the twisted burn scars. "They don't…I didn't know tattoos went into your skin." 

            "They don't. Those are burns." 

            Ken looked up at Ran, who refused to meet his gaze. 

            "…Oh…I'm sorry. I didn't mean…to invade…" 

            "It's ok." Ran glared across the crowds. 

            Ken was quiet again, but quickly spoke up. 

            "Want to dance?" 

            "What?!" 

            "Dance. Do you want to?" 

            "No. I mean, I don't want to. I mean, I want to, but I can't dance. I've never danced before." 

            "It's not hard. You just kind of…throw yourself around. I mean, look at the other kids." 

            Ran glanced at the nearest pair of dancers. 

            "That looks painful, if you ask me…" 

            "You don't have to be that enthusiastic," said Ken with an annoyed tone. "And you don't have to dance. It was just an offer." 

            The brunette turned back to the bar. Ran didn't want to look at him, but his mind screamed at him to do it, so he eventually glanced back. 

            Ken was slumped against the bar, glaring at the bottles five feet away. His face glowed in the lights. A feeling twisted hotly inside Ran. He tried to force it down, but it was to no avail. 

            "Um…Ken…?" 

            "What?" 

            "I'll…if you teach me, I'll try." 

            Ken looked over at Ran, then shrugged and stood up. 

            "Ok. I'll teach you." 

            With that, Ran found himself being dragged onto the dance floor. 

            "Look at the people around you." 

            "That's not hard. I don't even have to turn my head." 

            "So it's full. So what? Watch what they do and then turn to your own style." 

            "My own style…?" Ran watched the groups of kids around him dance. Some had their arms in the air, others were spinning, some were just standing and shuffling their feet. Some of them were even dancing in pairs, but that looked really painful. 

            "Yeah. Go on, try it." 

            "I'll look like an idiot." 

            "Do you think anybody's going to see it?" 

            "You will." 

            "I promise I won't laugh." 

            "You laughed before." 

            "I didn't promise then." 

            "…you go first." 

            "Fine." Ken pulled off his jacket, revealing a t-shirt under it, and tied the brown thing around his waist. Then he started in on his own way of dancing to this kind of music. 

            Ran watched him. 

            Ken's style was obviously influenced from his soccer playing skills. The way he moved was mostly done with his entire body and not just his arms or his legs. Goalies had to be ready to spring into action and block the ball with everything they had. Like some sort of spirit that had sprung out of nowhere, Ken twisted his entire body and pushed off with his feet. He hit Ran and grinned up. 

            "C'mon! Try it!" 

            The music seeped into his head, the lights flashed in his eyes, Ken melded in with the other dancers. All Ran saw was a blur of colors and shadows, but in the mess of all that, he saw bright flames shooting up through the floor. Seven foot tall apparitions made of fire spun and threw their heads back, causing even more apparitions to appear. They surrounded him, caressed him, pulled him into their wild, psychotic dance. 

            He didn't see Ken anymore. He didn't see anyone anymore. Everything around him had melted into one big striped shape. It was like being inside a lava lamp, only with more colors and black water. The music was no longer just something he heard, it was part of his entire being. It swirled around in his head like the colors all around his body. Without him knowing it, he had started dancing and was pulling Ken into it. 

            Outside his head world, Ken caught sight of Ran's erratic patterns and copied them somewhat. Suddenly he was pressed body to body against Ran, his chest to Ran's, and they were moving together. He seemed as lost in the music as his redhead counterpart was. He was still coherent, though, and realized that Ran was really getting into this. What caused it had yet to be determined. 

            Flashing colors 

            and spinning flames 

            and writhing shadows 

            with a body 

            against his own. 

            Heat 

            on every part of him 

            dripping off him 

            glowing like the colors 

            like an aura 

            of his own. 

            Another one 

            bound within his 

            tied by a string 

            held by fate 

            twined forever 

            like kindred spirits 

            or just friends? 

~~~ 

            "Ran?" 

            Ken felt the hand on his shoulder sliding down his arm. 

            "Ran, are you ok?" 

            The other hand was latched almost painfully tight on his hip, and he winced when it clenched even harder around the bone. 

            "Ran…that hurts…" Ken tried to pull away, but Ran only held him closer. This was bad… 

            "Ran, what are you doing? Let go of me!" Ken jerked away from his partner's hold and looked right into those violet eyes. 

            He didn't see any more violet. 

            It was a twisted mass of glimmering lights and dark, dark purple. Red hair was plastered by sweat to Ran's face, and his entire body shone with sweat. For a moment, the two of them stared at each other. 

            Then Ran seized Ken by the wrist and dragged him off the dance floor, away from all the people, into a corner where there were only blind drunks. 

            "Hey – Ran – stop! What are you doing? Let go of me!" 

            Ran didn't seem to hear him. He pulled Ken so the brunette was in front of him, forced him against the wall, and without any warning, kissed him. 

            Ken was so shocked by the action that he failed to do anything in the first few moments of the kiss. Then he started fighting back. He turned his head away as well as he could. 

            "R-Ran…no! Stop it!" 

            He was silenced when the redhead forced yet another kiss onto him. Ran's grip on his wrist tightened; the other hand made its way under Ken's already loose t-shirt. 

            Part of Ken told him to fight back, to get away, to get out of the club. There was something wrong with Ran, something seriously wrong. It could result in something bad happening. If he didn't get away now, he wouldn't be able to get away at all, and then…what would happen…? 

            The other part of him, however, said so what if Ran was hallucinating? Look what was happening! A kiss from the only guy Ken had ever really liked, and just look where that other hand was going! This could result in something great! 

            Common sense won over. Ran was either drunk or drugged. 

            Unfortunately, Ran was stronger than Ken by a long shot, as the boy had determined earlier. When he tried to turn his head away, the very force of the kiss kept him in place. One of his arms was pinned next to his head, and the other was trying to push Ran off with little success. The hand under his shirt was doing things to him that Ken had felt more than once in his life. 

            Then that hand moved down, and suddenly Ken was forced to the floor, Ran kneeling between his legs. The kiss was broken off. Ken stared up at Ran. 

            _No… _

"Ran, stop! You bastard, wake up!" 

            His voice went unheard. Ran's was completely out of it, and his hands were working the belt to Ken's jeans. 

            "Ran, get off me! Let go!" 

            His voice was silent. 

            "Stop it! Ran! Snap out of it!" 

            His hands were useless. 

            "Can't you hear me?!" 

            His struggles were lost. 

            It seemed he wasn't entirely ignored, though; Ran suddenly dropped one hand where Ken's legs met, freezing the brunette in place. Roughly that hand moved back up to join the other one in pulling down Ken's pants. 

            "Oh, God…" Ken shut his eyes tight and groped for a nearby bottle. "Ran, forgive me for this…" 

            Ken grabbed the neck of the bottle and smashed it against the side of Ran's head. 

            Ran was knocked unconscious instantly. 

            "I'm sorry, Ran, but I had to." Ken picked the redhead up off the floor and draped him partially over one shoulder. "We're leaving now. I'll get you home. We've been here long enough." 

            The time was 8:00. 

            The cold night air was enough to wake Ran up, and as soon as the redhead managed to see again, he groaned and rubbed his head. God, what a headache… 

            "Ran?" 

            Ken's voice peeked tentatively into his consciousness. Ran glanced to his left to see Ken. 

            "Huhn…?" 

            "Are…you ok?" 

            "I'm…my head hurts like a bitch…but I'm ok…" 

            "I hope so. Can you walk?" 

            "I think so." Ran tried to walk, but Ken ended up supporting him to the nearby park. They sat down on a bench – or rather, Ken sat down. Ran collapsed and slumped onto Ken's shoulder. "My head…" 

            "Did you get a drink while I wasn't looking or something?" 

            "No…but the soda…tasted weird…" 

            "…I wonder if she gave you a beer or something instead of a soda." 

            "Huh?" 

            "It is kind of hard to see things in that light." 

            "Oh…" 

            They stared at the smoggy night sky for awhile. 

            "…Ran…did you…see anything…while you were dancing?" 

            "I saw…" Ran furrowed his eyebrows, then shut his eyes altogether and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I saw fire. And I saw…I saw…" 

            "…lights?" 

            "Yeah. Lots of lights, and…shadows." 

            "…did you see…anything else?" 

            "I saw someone that was part of me. They were dancing with me, and I…" 

            "…you…? What? What did you do?" 

            "I can't remember." 

            Ken gave Ran a grave look. 

            "…I think I know." 

            "Huh?"   
            "I was dancing with you. Then you were looking at me all weird, and then you dragged me off the dance floor." 

            Ran was silent. 

            "You did more than that…you tried to…" 

            "…what did I do to you, Ken?" 

            "You tried to do the one thing to me you promised you'd never force onto me." 

            Ran shut his eyes tight. He'd hoped that wouldn't be the answer. 

            "…I'm sorry…" 

            "It's ok…you were drunk." Ken closed his eyes. "It was still scary, though." 

            "Mm." 

            They were silent again for a long time, just listening to the wind in the trees and admiring the buildings around them. Finally, Ken said he had to go home. 

            "I should really get going. I'll just tell him that we got thrown out for reckless behavior. He'll like that." 

            "Like it?" 

            "He likes things like that. You know, chaos, destruction, the works." 

            "Oh…" Ran pulled his head of Ken's shoulder and groaned. "Yohji'll never let me forget this one." 

            "He wanted you to go?" 

            "Always did." He sighed. "Well, now that I've gone, he can rub it in my face all he wants. The bastard." 

            "Well…it was fun for awhile. Thanks for coming, Ran." 

            "Uh…you're welcome." 

            Ken suddenly leaned in and kissed Ran on the lips. It was so quick and so sudden that Ran hardly had time to realize what had happened before Ken had vanished into the shadows of the night. 

            When the sensation finally reached him, though, he brought his fingers up and touched his lips. 

            "…Ken?" 


	18. My Immortal

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you have heard of, doesn't. 

            _8:30 PM_

_            One week later. _

Ran walked in the door to his shared apartment and smelled trouble instantly.

            Firstly, there were no lights on. There were always lights on in the apartment, even if Yohji was asleep. Actually, that usually attributed to his being asleep. 

            Secondly, the TV was on, blaring some loud movie. Ran was unable to tell what movie it was from where he was standing. 

            Thirdly, the freezer door was hanging wide open. While this wasn't something uncommon in their apartment, there was a bag of frozen peas on the floor, which indicated that someone had opened the freezer door very, very fast. 

            Cautiously, Ran stepped into the living room, half expecting to see a couple dead bodies and a psychopath chewing on a dismembered arm. 

            Instead he was greeted with the sight of Yohji sitting on the couch, a spoon in his mouth and a container of ice cream in his hand, staring at the TV in some kind of trance. Ran suspected a mental breakdown and flipped on the lights. 

            "AAUGH!" Yohji cringed away from the lights and dropped his spoon. "It burns! It burns! Turn them off!" 

            Ran hit the switch and glared through the dark. 

            "…Yohji." 

            "Ahh, that's much better…" 

            "Yohji. What the _hell_ are you doing?" 

            "I'm watching Blade II. That should be obvious enough." 

            "In the dark." 

            "Yes." 

            "With a carton of ice cream." 

            "Of course!" 

            Ran looked at him with a mixture of hatred and pity before turning around and heading for his room. 

            "You are such an idiot." 

            "Why don't you join me?" Yohji waved his spoon airily, knowing Ran wouldn't see it. "You could use a change in routine for once. Outside of going to the store, I mean." 

            Yohji had been proposing this as a jest, not seriously. So it was shocking when Ran actually hesitated in the hall and then turned to come back in the doorway. 

            "You have to get me a spoon, then." 

            Silence. 

            Then: 

            "Who are you and what did you do with Ran?" 

            Ran rolled his eyes. 

            "I'm an FBI agent infiltrating this apartment complex, looking for drug dealers, and we kidnapped and killed your friend in order to keep him from talking." 

            "Holy shit, you guys took long enough." Yohji grinned. "The marijuana farms are two levels up, rooms 421 through 440, the ecstasy dealer is on the first floor, and the landlord only accepts fine opium as rent payment." 

            "That's interesting. We've had reports that you've got a meth lab in this room. Mind if we look around?" 

            "Check the kitchen, second drawer from the left." 

            "Lazy ass." Ran went into the kitchen and pulled out a spoon, then returned to the living room where Yohji was still giving him a skeptical grin. 

            "What brought on such a change in personality? You usually just throw something heavy at me when I ask if you want to watch a movie with me. Especially one like Blade II." 

            "Hn." Ran climbed over the back of the couch and dug his spoon into the ice cream tub. 

            Two hours and forty nine sarcastic comments later, Yohji shut off the TV and said, "I didn't think the special effects were _that _bad." 

            "You're untrained." Ran tossed his spoon in the general direction of Yohji's head and missed. Yohji snorted in response. 

            "I'm untrained? What's that mean?" 

            "It means you're an idiot." 

            "Now that sounds more like the Ran I know." Yohji stretched out on the couch. "You've been acting funny lately, especially tonight. What made you so…sociable all of the sudden?" 

            "It's none of your business." 

            "Is it your boyfriend?" 

            "No!" Ran kicked at Yohji from his end of the couch. 

            "Oh ho, so it is!" cackled Yohji, sitting up. "Denial means instant yes!" 

            "Shut up!" Ran spat back, groping for something to throw. Damn his spoon for being so out of reach! 

            Suddenly, Yohji had managed to throw himself across the couch and nearly pin Ran down. Even though all the lights were off, the city outside was glowing orange, which went through their window and managed to illuminate the room just enough for Ran to realize what happened. 

            "Yohji, get off me." This was not an uncommon event, except that Yohji wasn't grinning. 

            "Not until you tell me what you and your boyfriend did to make you so sociable." 

            "We did nothing!" 

            "What about that dance last week, hm? You came home looking all flushed and happy…" 

            "How would you know?" Ran asked incredulously. "You were with some girl!" 

            "Yeah, but she wanted a peek at you, and considering what you were wearing, I got pretty damn jealous…" 

            "Shut up!" Ran shoved the laughing blonde off him and sat up. "It was your choice in clothes, anyway…" 

            "So? She wanted to jump you in the hall. I told her you were gay, though, but it didn't change much…" 

            "_Fucker!" _

            "Oi, oi, relax, Ran. Ever heard of joking?" 

            "All the goddamn time," snarled the angry redhead, standing up and heading for the door. Yohji watched him go and sighed. 

            "If only you'd be more like this all the time…then maybe I'd get some straight answers out of you." 

            "I heard that. No, you wouldn't." 

            "Damn." 

~~~ 

            It was nearly midnight, and outside the warmth of apartment buildings or strategically placed industrial buildings, it was raining. Dark, heavy clouds hung over the buildings, looking as though they'd rather explode and drench the city in one massive tidal wave instead of letting out tiny droplets 500,000 at a time. A few poor unfortunate souls rushed from building to building in an attempt to keep dry. Others just sat in the rain, as they had been kicked out of their respective doorways for the night. 

            Ran and Ken were not of those poor unfortunate souls. 

            Ran was sitting at his computer, in his room, with the door shut. It would have been locked except that it didn't have a lock. So he'd jammed his basket of dirty clothes under the handle and sat down at his desk, ready for a night of insulting people who were too stupid to realize what kind of mistakes they made when they existed and illegally downloading music for his personal use. 

            Ken was lying on his bed, earphones on, CD player blasting, staring out the rain-streaked window with bored and slightly depressed eyes. He was still completely dressed, as if it was twelve hours prior to the current time. All the lights in his room were off, so he was getting an orange-hued glow from his window instead of a fake golden glow from his floor lamp. 

            Every once in a while, Ran would glance to his right, out the permanently latched window that was being barraged with raindrops. He eventually sighed in irritation and picked up his earphones. The rain was getting on his nerves; did it have to be so…repetitive? 

            Ken couldn't have heard it anyways. 

            The two of them did completely different things for about half an hour, whereupon Ken hit the 'next' button on his CD player and Ran double clicked on a song he hadn't heard before at exactly the same time. 

            Interestingly enough, they both wound up listening to the same song. 

            _I'm so tired of being here… _

_            Suppressed by all my…childish fears… _

Ran pushed the right earphone into his head in an attempt to listen out of it better, since it wasn't working very well. 

            _And if you have to leave… _

_            I wish that you would just leave… _

_            'Cause your presence still lingers here… _

_            And it won't leave me alone… _

Ken shifted on his bedspread, suddenly quite uncomfortably aware of a sharp pain in his chest. This song was starting to remind him of himself and the way he acted about Ran – he was always so naïve and useless whenever something came up that embarrassed him. Which was, surprisingly, a lot of things. And he was always thinking about Ran. Hell, right now was proof! The first thing he thinks of while listening to a song is the only guy he's ever liked. He wondered briefly if that put him under the 'obsessed' label. 

            _These wounds won't seem to heal; _

_            This pain is just too real; _

_            There's just too much that time cannot erase… _

Ran rubbed his right temple, feeling a headache coming on from the loudness of the music. As he reached out to turn down the volume, the sleeve on his t-shirt slid up and his burn scars became painfully visible. He stopped and looked at them for a moment as the song played on. 

            _When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears; _

_            When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears; _

_            And I held your hand through all of these years; _

_            But you still have… _

Ken's eyelids drooped. 

            _…all of me… _

Ran shook his head and turned the volume slightly lower. That was all in the past. There was nothing he could do to change it. Aya-chan had been a beautiful girl with a hopeful future, but his father had destroyed it through stupid bets and then she sacrificed herself to save Ran. 

            _She was so still, the way she was just lying there, as if the rain couldn't make her move in death, so unlike the way she had acted in life, when she was always moving around, and how her last movement had been to push him out of the way, he wondered why had she done that if she knew she had so many more years left than he did? _

            He slammed a hand down on the keyboard, causing the file player to implode and an error message popped up. 

            Ken rubbed the side of his palm and continued staring out the window, his eyes nearly shut now. Music had an anesthetic effect on him, especially sad songs like this one. Especially songs that reminded him of someone he loved…like way back when he was a kid and his parents had just died, and at the funeral he'd heard someone singing and he'd burst into tears because it had been so sad. Ever since then he couldn't handle himself when he heard that song. He'd leave the room, or hide his face, depending on what mood he'd been in before. And sometimes someone would ask what was wrong, and he might mention that he'd heard it at his parent's funeral, and they'd suddenly get quiet, and he wondered why they did that every time, after all, he wasn't opposed to talking about it, it was like death was a bad things to talk about, but it happened to everyone eventually, didn't it, so why were they so hesitant about…talking about it, when they were so content with carrying it out? 

            Briefly he drifted into a dreamland that had been unhindered by school for nearly a week. 

~~~ 

             "House of pizza, how may I – gaack!" 

            A series of loud thumps and swear words emanated from the earpiece of Ken's telephone. Then: 

            "Hello?" 

            "Er…Ran?" 

            "Ken?" 

            "Yeah. Uh…what just happened?" 

            "Guess." 

            "…something that involved pain directed at Yohji?" 

            "I'd call it aggression." 

            Ken shifted so he was putting his weight on his left leg. Lately his right leg had been feeling weak, so he thought it would be better if he didn't stand on it for too long. 

            "Well, uh, I called to see if you were up for going out later today or something." 

            "Going…?" There was a slight pause, and another thump. "Where were you thinking of?" 

            "Maybe a restaurant or something. Or we could go to a park. Just something little – I can't go too far from the apartment." 

            He heard another silence, but this one was tense. Nervously, Ken cleared his throat. 

            "So, um, why don't we meet at the park near my place? You remember how to get there, right?" 

            "Y…yes. I do. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." 

            "Alright. See you then." 

            Ken hung up the phone with a click and stared at it for a while. He shouldn't have said that. It wasn't right to make Ran worry so much, especially after all the stuff he was almost saying but never really said. 

            He moved into the entryway and slipped on his shoes and jacket. Then he left the apartment, making sure that it was locked before he went down the elevator. He ignored the other man in the elevator. 

            He had fifteen minutes; he didn't need to hurry. Ken took a quick run down the gas station near his apartment building and bought a bottle of water. The walk back was taken with deliberate slowness, with Ken sipping water and watching people around him as he went. They were all very much alike. 

           Calmly, he walked into the park and took a seat on a nearby bench. He didn't expect Ran to show up for some time, so it was a bit of a shock when the redhead appeared in front of him within five minutes. Ken shook his head to clear the dizzy feeling from it and looked up. 

            "Hi…you're early." 

            "Felt like it." Ran didn't sit down. "What's wrong?" 

            "Huh? What do you mean, what's wrong?" 

            Ran's eyes narrowed. "I'm not stupid. You could go as far from your place as you wanted yesterday. Why not now?" 

            "I…well, er…I don't know, but…just sit down." Ran did so hesitantly, and Ken offered him the bottle of water. "Want some?" 

            "No thanks." 

            The two men sat in silence for a while before Ken broke the silence, as was to be expected. 

            "It's cool that school's been cancelled for a week, hasn't it?" 

            Ran gave him a cool look and raised an eyebrow. 

            "It's because someone's dead," he said flatly. 

            Ken blanched. 

            "I didn't know that." 

            "Don't you watch the news?" 

            "No, not often." Ken felt a slight blush rise. "I spend my time in my room." 

            "Hn." Ran looked back toward the hedges across the park. Ken took a deep drink from his water bottle and nearly finished it off. 

            "Do they know who did it?" he asked, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand. 

            "Not a clue." Ran's eyes narrowed, two slits of hardened amethyst. "I wouldn't doubt…" 

            "…wouldn't doubt what?" 

            "Nothing." 

            Ken shrugged and finished off his water. He stood and was about to go throw the bottle away when another question, which he should have thought of earlier, hit him. 

            "Who was killed?" 

            "Schuldig, the German teacher. They don't know why he – " 

            Ken hit the ground in a dead faint. 


	19. Infectious Anger

Amor Fictus 

Written by Sakki 

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. 

Anything you have heard of, doesn't. 

            _"Out of the way, punk!"_

_            "Geeze, what's up with him? He's always so quiet 'n shit." _

_            "Who cares? I mean, it's not like he has any friends to talk to." _

_            "I wonder why." _

_            Laughter. _

_            "He's a teacher's pet, isn't he? They all like him because he gets As and stuff." _

_            "That's why, then?" _

_            "Why what?" _

_            "Why he always sits alone." _

_            "Oh. Well, probably. I wouldn't wanna be a friend of someone teachers liked." _

_            "Yeah, the nerdiness might rub off on you!" _

_            More laughter. _

_            He never understood why they always laughed at him. So what if the teachers liked him? It meant he could get away with not turning in homework sometimes. Or he could get extensions on his projects, or he got extra credit for doing nothing. It meant he got good grades for doing work other people would consider average. _

_            Apparently nobody cared. _

_            He always tried to slide sightlessly, soundlessly through the halls, like the other friendless losers who sought to avoid conflict. If he ducked, he could avoid the flying arms of the massive football players. Sometimes he had to jump over kneeling girls who were busily painting their nails. _

_            Damn, did it have to be so hard to get to one class? _

_            One class. Oh wait – he had forgotten, he had three classes left. But yes, he was only going to one class. Lunch would be after this class. Lunch was a time he didn't like very much, but that was ok; there were other friendless losers at lunch who would let him set with them. _

_            They were such nice people. Why didn't they have any friends? _

_            He got to his classroom on time, before the bell rang and before there were too many kids in the room. The teacher was there, sitting on his desk, reading through some papers and making quiet comments that went unheard by anybody else. _

_            On the ringing of the bell there came a flood of late students, still calling their goodbyes to their friends and giggling or laughing as if there was nothing wrong with being late. As one of the jocks passed by his desk, he found that his books were knocked 'accidentally' onto the floor, resulting in a round of laughter by the other students. He dove under his desk to fetch them and put the scattered papers and textbooks back on his plastic-scratched desk. _

_            The teacher hadn't laughed, but he had been watching. _

_            "Guten Morgen, my little students. I hope all of you have your hausaufgaben from yesterday?" _

_            They all did, but very little of it was done. Only he had his completely finished; well, he and a few other students who enjoyed getting passing grades. The teacher sauntered through the rows of desks, pen in hand, marking off points for those who didn't have it done and scribbling words of encouragement on those who did. _

_            A few students glared at those who received compliments, and one of them kicked him. He cringed and withdrew him into his desk. _

_            Again, the teacher saw but did nothing. _

_            "I see most of you need a lesson in anti-procrastination," the teacher said. "So tonight, I think I'll assign a little extra work for you to do. But we'll figure that out later, shall we?" _

_            The students groaned, unhappy with the misfortune which they had brought upon themselves. _

_            So the class went on, with the teacher scribbling unfamiliar words on the blackboard and making them memorize phrases; but he also played songs and made them sing along, as he was convinced that was a great way to force kids to learn. After all, it was recent music, and trendy, too. Nobody could complain. _

_            "Let me see…today's homework will consist of sections seven through twelve…and because of yesterday's obvious failure to motivate you, you can do sections fifteen through twenty as well." _

_           Unjust cries shot through the air, but one deadly look from their normally carefree teacher silenced the class. _

_            "If you do all of this correctly, maybe I'll 'forget' to give you homework tomorrow. Who knows?" _

_            The bell rang. Students grabbed their books and their bags and rushed out the door; his papers were knocked to the floor again. He sighed and went under his desk to fetch them again only to find that, within a moment, somebody else had picked up one of his books for him. _

_            He looked up, then stood up slowly. His teacher was holding his book for the previous class out to him with an eyebrow raised. _

_            "That makes twice in one day somebody's done that." _

_            He did not respond. _

_            "And four times this week." _

_            Silence. _

_            "I wonder what could make your fellow students prey on you like they do. Could it be the fact that you're new here?" _

_            "…probably." _

_            "It's such a shame. You seem so talented, too." His teacher sighed. "It's always the best ones that are ignored. I've seen it too much." _

_            He took his book from his teacher's hand and shuffled his papers into a slightly straighter pile. _

_            "I…need to go." _

_            "Wait." _

_            He didn't like the sound of his teacher's voice, but who was he to ignore an order? _

_            "…what?" _

_            "Soccer tryouts are starting soon. I'm a close friend of the coach, you know. You seem like you'd be a good player." _

_            "I don't…think I can." He tried to leave when his teacher grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward him. _

_            "Look, I'm offering you a chance to get out of the loser position and move into a spotlight of popularity." His teacher leaned in close and whispered directly into his ear. "You want that, right? I've seen how much you hate living ignored and passed over. If you take me up on this, everybody would like you. You'd never be hated again." _

_            He stared blankly at the wall, trying to ignore the feeling of his arm being crushed. A chance to be popular…he'd always wanted that… _

_            "What…do I have to do in return?" _

_            He felt his teacher smile. His arm was released and his teacher moved away from him, smiling like a Cheshire cat. _

_            "That," he said simply, "you will find out later." _

_            Later, he realized, meant in the next five minutes. _

_            He wished, many times, that he hadn't taken up that offer. What would his life have been like if he'd rejected it, stayed a loser, stayed ignored and unappreciated? He often pondered this question at night. Maybe he would have killed himself. Maybe he would have started cutting. _

_            Maybe his life would have gotten better. _

_            But he was falling, drowning, suffocating in his choices, in his blood, in his pain, in his responsibilities. _

_            It was all his fault. _

_            Yes. _

_            It was all _

_            his _

_            fault. _

            "Excuse me…Mr. Fujimiya?" 

            Ran looked up from where he was sitting. A dark-haired nurse was looking at him from a doorway. 

            "Would you come this way, please?" 

            He stood up as if a zombie and followed the woman in white. She led him down countless hallways and up a flight of stairs until he finally arrived at another door. She opened it, and there was Ken, lying in a bed. 

            "Is he…ok?" he asked, walking cautiously over to the bedside. 

            "He's not in any serious danger at the moment." 

            Ran stopped moving and looked at the woman. 

            "At the moment?" 

            "I don't have any clear information, but the doctor who took care of him is coming to talk about it. Please have a seat." 

            The woman turned and left, and Ran pulled a chair up next to Ken's bed. The brunette was pale and still in his bed. There was sweat trickling down his forehead. 

            He hadn't had time to wonder why Ken fainted at the time it happened. All he knew was that the boy had heard the name Schuldig and it triggered something inside him. He'd watched as Ken's pupils nearly vanished into his irises before rolling up into his head. Then his entire body crumpled, as if his legs had suddenly lost their bones, and his empty water bottle had fallen beside him. Ran had panicked and jumped to wake him, but when it didn't work he lifted Ken up and rushed him to the nearest hospital. 

            Now, however, he had time to think. 

            The nurse said he wasn't in any serious danger at the moment. What did that mean? Was something wrong with Ken that was ready to pounce should the opportunity arise? Was there some kind of disease running rampant in his veins that nobody had known about until now? What was it? What was wrong? _What was wrong? _

            The door opened, and a tall man with black hair stepped in. 

            "Excuse me." The doctor approached Ran and sat down next to him. "You were the one who found him like this?" 

            "I was with him." 

            "Are you a family member?" 

            "No." 

            "Do you know anyone in his family?" 

            "Not closely." 

            "Are you aware of the location of his family?" 

            Ran gave the man Ken's apartment address. 

            "What's wrong with him?" 

            "I can only inform his family of this." 

            "Hold on," Ran said, looking at the doctor for the first time. "What's wrong with him? Tell me." 

            "I can't." 

            "You have to. I'm…I'm the best family he's got." 

            "Is there something wrong with his real family that would put you in a position to say that?" 

            Ran was about to spit a heated remark about Ken's current situation when he caught himself. Ken didn't want people to know about this, did he? But…with the problem at hand, what choice did he have…? 

            "His…caretaker is abusive." 

            "Do you have proof?" 

            "What proof do I need? Look at him!" Ran gestured toward Ken. "Isn't there some kind of report you take on body injuries? He's got cuts all over him! Look at his face!" 

            The doctor raised an eyebrow and leaned over to examine the left side of Ken's face. There was still the healing scar there of the ring wound, where he had been backhanded. 

            "And there's more," Ran went on. "All over him. His entire body is covered with bruises and cuts and – and worse. On his leg there's this really big bruise that keeps getting bigger, and I think one of his ribs is cracked, and I – " 

            "Wait," the doctor said, cutting him off. "How long have you known about this?" 

            "A few weeks. But he made me swear not to tell anybody, and I…didn't want to do anything that would make his guardian…angry." 

            "You were afraid he would hurt him more?" 

            "Yes," Ran snapped. He was angry. No, he was _pissed._ There was a lot of anger in him that was mainly directed at life in general, but there was a growing section devoted to getting Ken's guardian thrown in jail that was flaring up right now. 

            "We do have a file," the doctor said, "of all his injures, that we took earlier. There are some surprisingly critical ones that were never properly taken care of. You say this is abuse?" 

            "He told me it was." 

            The doctor leaned back and sighed, setting down the clipboard he was holding. "When he wakes up, we'll have to make him give the same story to the police if this is true, you know." 

            "I…know." Ran looked away. 

            "For now, I suppose I can trust your judgment." Both men looked at Ken. "He has a serious infection." 

            "What?" Ran started, turning to glare at the doctor. 

            "Somewhere on his body, there is an infection that could be life threatening if not taken care of soon. As far as we know, it's on his leg – you mentioned that he had a growing bruise on his leg?" 

            Ran nodded, afraid of what he would hear next. 

            "That is an infection. If it keeps growing untreated, it could cause complications that may eventually lead to amputation." 

            Amputation. 

            The removal of a limb…? 

            Ran stared numbly at the wall. Ken's guardian had hurt him badly enough that Ken might have lost a leg. 

            "Is it…too late to…" 

            "No, we can still treat it. It will take at least a few months to go away completely and not come back, but right now it's not a severe problem. Another few weeks, though…" 

            Ran closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His thoughts collected themselves, and he exhaled. 

            Then he opened his eyes. 

            "Will he wake up soon?" 

            "His fever is going down surprisingly quickly, so yes, I believe he will." 

            "Call the police. I'll give them my side of it." 

            The doctor nodded, stood up, and left. 

            Ran was left with Ken, hoping and praying to gods he'd forsaken long ago that the boy would understand. 

~~~ 

            In a not-so-distant apartment complex, Brad Crawford sat at his desk. 

            He was writing a letter to an old friend of his, whom he hadn't seen in many years but kept in contact with from time to time. They weren't particularly close, but right now Crawford had nothing to do and he hated having nothing to do. 

            There had been meetings. There had been occasions of grief counseling. There had been TV reports, interviews, sympathy letters, funerals, wakes, mourning sessions, and so on. He had been invited to all of them. 

            And he had gone. 

            Of course he'd gone. Everybody knew the German teacher. Everybody liked the German teacher. He was friendly, he was funny, he knew his comebacks, and he knew the other teachers very well. Some of them a little _too well. _

            Very few people hadn't come, and those had been the ones too overcome by grief to even leave their houses. 

            Who would kill the German teacher? Who would kill the principal's son? Who would kill such a nice, friendly, educated young man? Only a rampant serial killer, most certainly. But there were no witnesses, and the security camera had been mysteriously turned off in that room during the time of the murder. So a very intelligent rampant serial killer. Oh, the grief and weeping. Oh, the sadness. 

            It made him sick. 

            He set down his pen and re-read his letter, checking for errors that he probably didn't make. 

            He never made mistakes. He never made errors. He never made miscalculations. 

            Oh, no. He _never made miscalculations. _

            Except… 

            His eyes narrowed in anger, and he set down his letter gently to avoid crushing it. He stood up and walked across the room to where he had a punching bag set up. 

            It was interesting that Brad Crawford would have such a device in his home, but he did. Although he'd argued with himself at the time of the purchase, he'd decided that it was an excellent acquisition after using it a few times. Any time he was angry while at home, he'd go over and hit it as hard as he could. Many, many times. Sometimes he envisioned his current point of rage in place of the battered red bag. It really helped. 

            But sometimes, he had to take slightly more drastic action. Sometimes the punching bag wasn't enough. Sometimes he was so angry he just had to hurt the real thing. Sometimes he did. 

            Only twice, though. He'd never be so crude as to give in to primal urges on a regular basis. 

            The first time was with the Fujimiya boy. So what if he'd read the question incorrectly? That didn't give the boy the right to be arrogant and prove it in front of an entire class. While he did think he'd gone to a bit of an extreme by slamming the boy's head into the blackboard, it was entirely worth it. He hadn't been fired yet, and therefore the boy hadn't told. 

            Although he'd had to reinforce this once or twice. 

            As for the second time? 

            It had made him realize something. 

            He really hated redheads. 


	20. Waking Up

Amor Fictus

Written by Sakki

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me.

Anything you have heard of, doesn't.

A quick author's note.

I want to apologize for the lack of updates for so many months. I fell into a massive writer's block and did nothing to try and get out of it. Now that school is starting up again, I felt that I should probably finish this story to keep from getting mauled by various readers – and hey, since I'll be a junior, I'll know what Ran's talking about.

I want to thank everybody who reads this story and especially those who have left reviews. You all make me very very happy and I feel so loved every time I read the reviews.

I also apologize for the shortness of this chapter. I promise that the next chapter will be longer.

"Hey…"

"Hmm?"

"…could you move? You're hurting me."

"Hmm." Ken felt the pressure on his arm lift, and he shifted it closer to his chest. "That better?"

"Yeah, tha…" he trailed off suddenly as a pair of arms encircled his waist.

His _bare_ waist.

A warm presence suddenly pressed against his chest – which was also bare – and cool lips pressed against his forehead momentarily. His eyes opened slowly and he found himself gazing into somebody else's eyes.

Amethyst eyes.

A smile crossed the face of the person next to him.

"So…did you like it, too?"

_Holy motherfucking shit! _

Ken shot up out of his bed, heart beating wildly and looking around.

This wasn't his room. He wasn't naked.

And most apparent of all, there was nobody lying naked next to him, least of all Ran.

When his breathing had slowed down enough that he no longer feared death by hyperventilation, Ken took in the room around him. It was white, stark, and clean. He looked down at his clothes; they were…hospital pajamas.

So he was in a hospital. But…why? The last thing he remembered was talking to Ran in the park, and then Ran told him that –

_"Schuldig, the German teacher.__ They don't know why he – " _

_ why did he die of all people why? why did they kill him? what could have caused someone to hate him more than ken did, to hate him so much as to kill him, to end his life? he was the only one who ever thought there was something in Ken, and now he was dead. gone and gone forever wasn't he _

Breathe in, breathe out, he reminded himself when his chest started hurting. Breathe in, breathe out. It was bad to forget to breathe, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in _thick heavy air, so hot it started to choke him, filling up his lungs until there was nothing left but a heavy solid block in his chest, crushing him, hurting him, why was he so scared and sad now that the man who'd tormented him was dead? why why why why why? _

He gripped the metal rim of the bed with both hands only to encounter something warm on his left. Jerking his hand away, Ken whirled to see what was over there – who was over there.

A chair, with a person in it. A person, who was using their folded arms as a pillow. A pillow, that was on the edge of his bed.

Red hair shadowed pale skin from the dim lights above.

Ran.

Ken stared at the sleeping form – or at least, he thought it was sleeping – of the redhead he'd come to trust. He found himself checking to make sure Ran was still dressed out of instinctive memory of whatever the hell had gone on a few minutes earlier. Aside from that, the only thing Ken did to Ran was stare, trying to find a feasible explanation as to why Ran would be sleeping at his bedside in a hospital.

The last thing he remembered was the dizziness as he stood up and the words Ran had said. After that, there was nothing.

Although wouldn't you remember being taken to the hospital?

Whether minutes or hours passed that he sat under the starchy sheets and stared at Ran didn't matter. Little thoughts drifted across his mind, but he ignored them. Right now they weren't important. The only thing that mattered was the fact that there was someone here for him. Someone cared about him enough to bring him to the hospital (although he wasn't sure for what reasons).

Someone…cared.

A soft groan reached his ears, causing him to jump slightly. Ken looked down to see Ran's head and shoulders lifting off the rim of the bed. Ran looked up, eyes blinking wearily from the ascent of asleep to awake. Then he noticed that Ken was sitting up.

"Ken!" Ran looked both shocked and ecstatic.

"Uh, hi?"

"How are you feeling? Are you ok? Do you hurt?" Questions about Ken's well-being poured forth like a suddenly undammed stream. After a few moments he held up his hands to stop Ran from talking.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. What am I doing here?"

"What are you…" Ran's expression resumed its usual stoic look. "You passed out when we were in the park…and I couldn't wake you up. So I brought you here."

"And where's 'here'?"

"A hospital."

"I realized that. Which hospital?"

"It doesn't matter." Ran hesitated, then suddenly reached forward and pulled Ken into a momentary crushing hug. "I'm just…glad you're ok."

Ken was silent.

He reached up with one hand, tentatively letting it rest on Ran's back. What was he supposed to say? Thank you? Me too? Eventually he settled for silence, breaking it only when Ran pulled out of the embrace.

"Did they say why I passed out?" he asked.

Ran looked at Ken, his expression blank, before turning his gaze to the wall.

"You have an infection."

"What?"

"An infection. On your leg. It…could have killed you."

Ken stared, completely taken aback. An infection on his leg? He always took care of the injuries he got! There was no way he could have gotten a wound down there contaminated.

"Are you serious?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "That's not possible. I've never had any serious cuts on my legs, soccer or…otherwise."

"Like hell I know how it got there?" Ran said, rather heatedly. Ken blanched. "I mean…sorry. But I don't know why it's there. They just said it was there."

Ken fell silent.

"…there was also the shock of hearing about…"

He looked at one of the walls, trying to seem unaffected for once.

Then:

"…I told them about your guardian."

The silence suddenly hardened.

"They sent over some units based on what I'd said, but – "

"You promised you wouldn't tell anybody."

"I had to, Ken. Otherwise they would have called him after you fainted."

"You swore you wouldn't say anything, Ran."

"Aren't you listening? If I hadn't told them, then you – "

"What would the difference be?! Life would have gone on like before! He's going to want to kill me now!" Ken shot.

"Do you think I didn't consider that?!" Ran shot back, gripping the steel side of Ken's bed so hard his knuckles turned white. "I knew he'd want to kill you if you told, but what if I hadn't?! What if you'd woken up now, in your own bed, with him standing over you, ready to kill you because _you were with me?!_He'd take any excuse to hurt you! At the very least you'll be safe from for a few years him if he's locked up! Besides, do you think you'd be the only one he'd go after?!"

Both boys glared at each other. Ran felt his fingers go numb.

"…you're saying he would have killed you…"

"…because we were together."

Ken felt his anger fade and worry take its place. Then there was a rush of relief at being safe – even temporarily – followed by a wave of gratitude to Ran. More emotions swirled into the mix and suddenly he couldn't hold himself up anymore. He leaned into Ran's arms and sobbed silently against his shirt.

_Much Later, after Time has passed._

Ran stood, his eyes on the school, his face set with a look of icy determination. Behind him, Yohji sat in the driver's seat of the car. Ken was in the back seat.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Yohji, fingering a cigarette.

Ran nodded.

"Let me go with you," Ken said, reaching for the handle. "You two hate each other. If I'm there, he won't try anything."

"No. I'll be fine." Flits of concern bit at his mind, but he ignored them. "Go park. I'll be back in twenty minutes."

Silence followed his statement. Eventually, Yohji sighed and put the car in drive.

"Be careful, Ran."

_I will. _

Autumn was fading into winter. Most of the leaves had fallen off the trees, leaving the branches bare and dead. This made it easier for the wind to cut through the thin jackets of people on the street.

He ignored the chills.

He had a determination inside him that bit back any outward emotions.

Slowly, he took one step towards the school.

Then he began to walk.

Up the stairs, through the doors, through the halls, down the halls, past lockers, past doors, up stairs, down stairs, though doors, until he reached his one final goal.

One final door.

Ran raised his hand to knock on the door. It passed the nameplate next to the doorframe.

_Pre-Calculus_

_ Crawford, B. _

"Come in," he heard. A busy, unhurried voice that didn't want to deal with anyone at the moment and thus did not look up to see who had knocked until after they entered. Ran closed the door behind him and waited.

Crawford paused in his writing and looked up.

"Do you need something?"

Ran bristled internally. How could he be so calm, so casual? He'd half expected the man to tell him to get out.

"Answers."

"If you're talking about the test, you already know."

"Why did you kill him?"

It was odd, Ran thought, how the room suddenly turned into a vacuum of space. There were no sounds, not even breathing, to interrupt the silence.

Crawford's eyebrows were raised in a look of mild surprise.

"Pardon?"

"Why did you kill him?" Ran asked again, his eyes shooting daggers.

"Are you accusing me of murdering Schuldig?" was the response.

"I know you did it." Ran glared right into his teacher's eyes. "I did research. Only one camera was turned off. You left your room just before it was turned off. You weren't in your room at the time of the killing. Your car was still in the parking lot."

"I went down to the coffee bar for lunch." Still calm, still collected.

"You didn't," Ran hissed. "I went down to see who had been there that day."

"And they provided you with an exact list of customers from a week ago?"

_There! _

"How do you know I went looking a week afterwards?"

Silence. Crawford's eyes hardened.

"I could have gone yesterday." Ran felt triumph starting to rise in him. "But you're right, I did go a week afterwards. I know a girl there. She worked on that day, at the register. During the lunch hours. You had her in a class, once. She remembered you. And she remembered that you were never there."

Silence prevailed. Crawford had shifted so he was facing Ran now. The pen he was holding was shaking slightly.

"If you didn't go down for lunch, you were still here. If you weren't in your room, and you weren't anywhere else, then where were you?"

An absolute deathly quiet fell over both of them. Ran didn't need to say anything else. He had Crawford trapped. There was a hole in his alibi, and Ran had gone through it and smashed up everything around it.

"Well?"

Crawford said nothing.

"I'm going to the police. And you'll never get out of jail." Ran turned around and prepared to open the door.

"Stop." Crawford's voice cut through the air.

Against his will, Ran obeyed.

"Why?" he asked, gritting his teeth. "I have proof. I don't need to listen to you."

Suddenly, he heard a click.

"Because if you don't, I will kill you."

Slowly, with the blood draining from his face as he moved, Ran turned around.

There was a handgun aimed directly at his heart, and Crawford was the one holding it.


	21. New Fallen Snow

Amor Fictus

Written by Sakki

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me.

Anything you have heard of, doesn't.

There was a moment in which Ran's heart stopped beating, as if preparing him for the death that was inevitably going to come. But it started again, much faster than before, sputtering on occasion as he tried to breathe.

The gun was a handgun: a simple, small handgun. It seemed impossible that something so small and dark could bring about the pain and death that it did. Ran stared down the barrel into the fathomless depths of the bullet chamber.

It was loaded, he thought. It had to be loaded.

"You're possibly the stupidest person alive," Crawford said, standing perfectly still. "Instead of going to the police, you came to me. You came to me to say that you had found a hole in my alibi. You came to the one person – the _only_ person – who would want to kill you over something like that."

It was loaded. It had to be. Crawford would not carry an empty gun around.

"Why would you do that?"

Ran slowly raised his eyes from the gun to his teacher's face, trying to keep from backing up. A question. He had been asked a question. He should answer the question, he thought.

But he couldn't.

"Well? Answer me." The gun moved, and Ran flinched. He opened his mouth once, twice, then closed it and tried to swallow.

Why couldn't he speak?

"Don't tell me it's an obsession." Crawford's sudden tiny grin didn't match the icy fury in his eyes. "Did you come to tell me this because you wanted me to know I was beaten? On your terms?"

No, that wasn't it. That couldn't be it. Tell him that's not it.

"Instead of waiting until I was in jail to gloat, you had to come for a one-on-one confrontation to prove to me that you were better." The grin was growing, becoming more sinister. "Your absolute fixation on beating me in any way made you think that coming to tell me I had failed would verify your superiority."

Crawford lifted the gun slightly so it was now pointing at Ran's collarbones.

"Am I right?"

Ran felt himself take a step back. No, no, that wasn't it, that wasn't right. He didn't want to prove he was better, he wanted to prove Crawford was a killer, he wanted to put a killer behind bars, he wanted to stop more people from dying, he wanted to _prove he was right, and Crawford was wrong. _

Crawford was right.

_"Nobody proves me wrong." _

A sharp bark of laughter startled Ran, and he tripped over his own feet. He fumbled to keep from falling and grabbed onto a desk. His eyes were ever locked on Crawford, keeping the man in his sight at all times.

The grin was gone.

"I am right. You're so arrogant that you'd allow your own pride to be your downfall."

Crawford was moving now, taking fast strides toward Ran. The latter stumbled back, hitting desks as he went. Halfway down the row they both stopped; first Crawford, then Ran.

"I'm not surprised you never told. You'd never let anybody know a teacher had beaten you up, would you."

Ran's fingers found the edge of a desk. He grabbed on tight enough to make his knuckles white.

"Your egotistical thinking was the only thing keeping me from being fired. Did you actually think I would kill you over something like that?"

_What? _

The confused look Ran gave Crawford made the other man snort softly in contempt.

"I was angry. I hurt you. I proved my point to you. But this is not the only school. There are other places to work."

"Your record," Ran managed, his voice so thin and rough it scared him.

"I have contacts. There are strings I can pull. It would not be difficult to convince people you attacked me unprovoked, and I was only fighting in self-defense."

The words stung. Flames ran up and down Ran's arms and legs, making him feel weak.

It would have been easy, so easy, to have all of this never happen.

Why couldn't he see it?

Ran turned his frightened gaze into a powerful, dark glare. There was still fear in his eyes, yes; but now it was covered up by a thin layer of rage. This man talked so casually about how superior he was, about how easy it was to cover up pain and death and hurt. It made Ran want to rip the gun out of the man's hands and turn it on him, open fire on him, blast that composed look off his face with a single round. Ran made to insult him, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

Again he could not speak.

"This is a change," he heard Crawford say. "You're angry now? Angry about what? About how simple it would be for me to make you the aggressor in a situation like this?"

Speak, Ran thought to himself. Go on, speak, say something, say anything. Just speak, for God's sake.

"Or are you angry because you don't want to be afraid? That's what leads a lot of people to become murderers unintentionally." Crawford smiled again, another tiny grin that made icy scorpions run up Ran's spine. "You want to kill me, is that it? The way I want to kill you. Only more violently. More brutally. Tell me, Ran, is that what you want? Do you want to hold this gun in your hands and shoot me?"

A whisper was all that Ran could respond with. A whisper with no words in it, a whisper that flew away on wings faster than he could reach out and catch it.

"It would be murder. You'd kill me, almost totally unprovoked. You would go to jail and live out your life in a cold cell, with nobody there to help you or comfort you." Again the smile vanished. "Is my death worth the rest of your life?"

His bravado wavered. Ran felt his legs starting to shake under him, as if they couldn't support his weight anymore.

And suddenly, they didn't need to.

There was a blur of off-white before his eyes, and then there was a solid brick of something against his stomach, lifting him off the floor with more ease than should have been possible. His feet didn't leave the ground, but they could have. He found his body weightlessly rising and falling backwards.

For a moment he thought he was passing out, drifting into a dreamworld beyond imagination.

His back hit the floor with a solid thump, and whatever little air was left in his lungs was forced out. Pain exploded in his stomach, making him curl up around his hands as they clawed desperately at his shirt. Ran struggled for air, alternately coughing and gasping when he could.

A shadow fell across his already darkening vision.

"Worthless."

Through eyes clouded by pain, Ran looked up and saw the shaded figure of Crawford standing over him, saw the empty black hole of the gun barrel, saw bright headlights and a girl on the ground.

Out in the parking lot, Ken pulled on a strand of hair nervously, causing it to come out in his fingers. The tiny pinprick of pain didn't bother him; he was too busy being worried. Next to him, Yohji drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The sunglasses prevented any visible emotion from being seen, but by the frequency of the drumming it could be read that anxiety resided within this man. It was more obvious in the other one.

Eventually, Ken unleashed a frustrated sigh and reached for the door handle.

"I'm going in."

"He told us to stay here, you know. He gets pissy when people don't do what he asks."

"Yeah, well, he said twenty minutes. It's been more than that."

Yohji shrugged and pressed the unlock button. Ken opened the door and stepped out, limping slightly when he put weight on his bad leg.

"If I'm not back with him in ten minutes, call the police."

"All right." Yohji seemed unsure, but Ken's flat determination dispelled most doubts. "Ten minutes."

Ten minutes like a thousand eternities.

Ran knew that about now he should be either pleading for his life or already dead. If Crawford fired right now, the bullet would go in through one side of his head and out the other. The slightest movement could either make it go in through his temple or through his eye. The former was instant death; the latter was drawn out and hellish.

One twitch and he could die. Would die.

His breath was still coming in heaving gasps.

"Are you going to beg for your life?" asked Crawford, his finger resting calmly on the trigger. "You didn't before, but you weren't in quite as much danger then."

If he could have spoken, he would have. His voice remained locked in his throat, locked in his stomach, away from the world and the man he needed to speak to.

There was a click, and with a tiny pang of fear Ran realized that it was the gun, and that if he heard another click it would mean that he was dead.

Red crossed his vision, strands of hair like streams of blood.

The white shadow of Crawford was suddenly getting closer. He tried to draw back but the pain in his stomach was great, too great, for him to overcome.

He was going to die, he was going to be shot, the last thing he was going to see would be his teacher's face, so angry and sadistic and gleeful.

The gun was gone.

Instead of ice cold metal, he felt the faint touch of chilly skin against his face. The threads of red were brushed off of his cheeks, and now he could see the hard glint in Crawford's eyes as clearly as he had seen his death.

Pain dulled his senses, but it was bordered by confusion.

"Perhaps if you weren't such an idiot, this could have ended much more peacefully." Eyes like setting suns glinted with dark humor and disdain. "Even mercifully, for both of us."

Crawford stood up then, and aimed the gun at Ran's head once more.

There was a click.

It was much louder than the first click.

But it did not come from the gun.

"Ran?!"

Above him, Ran saw Crawford turn his head toward the door. A flash of something crossed the man's face.

He lifted the gun

turned it

and fired it

into

Ken.

The sound of the gunshot echoed so loudly in Ran's ears that it drowned out every thought he had at that moment.

A faint gasp escaped Ken's lips. He reached down with one hand and felt his stomach.

Wet and hot.

Ran saw him slowly sink to the floor through the legs of the desks.

His eyes widened.

_She was lying so still, her whole body wet, her eyes closed like she was sleeping and her skin still warm and red from the heat of running and from the blood that was splattered across her clothes, the blood from where the car had hit her and split her skin open and she was dead no matter how many times he called her name and he promised, promised, promised to himself and to her and to everything there that she wasn't dead, that she was going to come back and be alive, and then she didn't and he remembered screaming and sirens and someone calling his name, someone asking who he was, and a thousand questions he couldn't answer and the tears he didn't shed. _

No.

"NO!"

His voice returned to him in such force that it startled Crawford, who looked down at him.

One moment of distraction.

Fingernails dug into the hand that held the gun, drawing blood within seconds from their ferocity. Wild rage consumed Ran, devoured every inch of him and filled him with a strength he never knew was there.

Kill. Kill. You killed. I will kill. They killed. I have killed.

His fists rained down on Crawford, smashing away the gun, breaking the bones, bruising the muscles, fulfilling the desires of demons and animals. Screaming pain and hatred rammed daggers into his mind.

He had to kill Crawford. Crawford killed Ken. He had to kill this man. This man killed his sister, his parents, his life, his soul.

There would be blood spilled when

"N-NO!"

there was a cry that made him stop.

Ken was barely supporting himself on one arm, the other wrapped around the bloody expanse on his stomach.

"Don't…kill him!" he tried to say, and wound up coughing a splatter of blood. "Don't…be a moron…!"

It was a matter of life or death and Ken almost seemed to be making a joke.

Now it was his moment of hesitation, his one moment of distraction, that allowed Crawford, the nemesis, the enemy and the bad guy, the one who caused this all, to slip away from Ran's fists and seize his scattered weapon.

He brought it around to Ran's head.

Ken's eyes widened. He tried to lunge forward, tried to stop Crawford, but he couldn't move.

Ran saw death, light, a smiling girl with blue hair.

There was a click.

"DROP THE WEAPON!"

And everything froze, just like that.

---

The air was bitingly sharp and crisp that morning, forcing people to wear scarves and gloves if they decided to go outside. Above the buildings the sky was clear and blue, pale where the sun was and royal where it wasn't.

Outside a small café, two men stood in the relative safety of a doorway. Neither was wearing a scarf, but one did have a coat.

"God, it's cold out here. Can't we wait inside?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because we don't have to. It's not open, anyway."

"I could always get that girl in there to let us in, you know…"

"No."

Silence.

"…then can /I/ go wait inside?"

"Fine. Be a wuss."

"I am very manly, thankyouverymuch. I just don't like freezing to death. The ladies understand it."

"I'm sure they do."

The taller man turned and winked to the girl inside the café, and she quickly ran over to open the door.

This left one man standing in the relative safety of a doorway.

Nervousness and impatience intermingled around the man. He tapped one foot on the ground, then tapped one finger on his coat, then hummed off-key to a song he'd never heard. A minute was an hour; an hour was a year; everything depended on one of those minute-hour-years to come and go at the precise moment it was needed.

A third man suddenly came dashing down the street. He nearly tripped over his own feet and then narrowly avoided a collision with a chair in an attempt to stop running. The man in the doorway raised a single slender eyebrow.

"Graceful."

"Shut up. At least I wasn't late."

"I'll give you that." The man in the doorway looked out at the sky. "No snow today, I think."

"No really? You should be a weather guy. You'd be dead on every time, I'm sure."

"…idiot."

He stepped away from the doorway and started off down the street. The third man followed him, limping slightly on one leg.

"Hey, wait up! You stupid moron." He dropped himself across the other man's shoulders and grinned. "Get a sense of humor, Ran."

"Get a sense of tact, and then maybe."

Ken snickered and squeezed Ran's shoulders once, affectionately. Ran returned the favor by ruffling Ken's hair, then ducked out from under the other's weight and took off down the street.

He was followed by the brunette, who yelped in indignation at his hair being disturbed and laughed maniacally as he pursued Ran.

The sun sparkled in the air, decorating the laughter of young love as it ran onward to another place.

Another set of trials, as well.

But there was something the sunlight knew, the sky knew, the trees and leaves and snowfall knew.

Kindness prevails in times of great need. Whether it is a kindness on the street or a kindness of love, or even a kindness that can be followed by pain and hurt, it will give others hope and open up doors.

Ran and Ken continued running down the roads, learning from the fresh snow that brushed against their faces with the breeze.

-end-


End file.
